I'm Definitely Thifty, but am I Nifty?

I've been in New England for almost eight months and in all that time, I haven't set foot in a thrift store.  I thought for awhile that this could be my chance to get clean...  My one chance to attempt to be classy and NOT get excited about how cheap and wonderful other people's used crap is...  My one chance to prove to my sister Briana that I can SO be normal...  Alas, I needed a rolling pin and two pie pans and since I have all that in Idaho waiting to make the trip over, I just couldn't see spending full price so...  Bottom line, the temptation was just too tantalizing and since I had a good excuse, I found myself wandering into three separate thrift stores a couple of days ago.  Did I find what I was looking for?

You bet I did!  One rolling pin and two Pyrex pie pans for ten bucks meant an awesome bargain with only the loss of my dreams of going straight to show for it.  Since deep down I didn't really want to quit my thrift store habit - just half-heartedly wanted to impress a few people - I felt right at home as soon as I started inspecting the stacks of garbage.  It was heavenly.  I resisted the urge to buy a ceramic bust of Jesus, not because I couldn't have found a use for it, but because it's not good to be greedy.  It's important to spread your oddities out a bit so that some folks (Briana) will stay off your back a little longer.  Therefore, I purchased only what I originally came in for instead of pushing my luck.  I derived so much fulfillment the first trip, that I decided to stroll around again today - just in case I missed something fantastic my first go round AND just in case Jesus hadn't been snapped up by someone else...  I didn't buy anything today but I found this:

I found out this week just how well supported the New England Patriots or "Pats" as they are called really are out here.  I made the mistake of revealing to one of the labor nurses that I could care less about the "Pats" or any other NFL team for that matter.  Let's just say that the remainder of the exchange did not go well.  I called to tell my dad all about it and he pretty much called me an idiot for making such a dumb mistake.  Then he told me not to say anything disparaging about the Red Sox or I might lose my life.  How lucky that the thrift stores out here have ten million hats, T-shirts, and other items imprinted with both the "Pats" and the Red Sox available for purchase.  If I decide that I feel threatened in any way by these ridiculous fans out here, I guess I can go back and purchase a disguise that won't break the bank.  As a side note, I did for one second worry about head lice when I tried on the little number above, but when you shop at thrift stores, you have to leave your pride behind.  You're welcome. 

Just when I thought I had seen every treasure I possibly could, I stumbled on this atrocity:

What in the hell is going on here?!  I can guarantee I would never see such sexual pandemonium at the thrift stores in Idaho!  There's girl on girl action here, heterosexual couples, biracial couples, and a few single swingers fully dressed and waiting for action!  My goodness there's even two babies watching everyone in what I hope is horror and utter disgust!  I guess I should feel grateful that except for male homosexuals, there doesn't seem to be any discrimination on this naked wall of shame, but really people.  Isn't there some Barbie house we can hide these people in?  I bet they'd like some privacy and I certainly don't need to know what dirty escapades the other members of my community are up to!  What if I see them walking around on the street?  I'll never be able to look them in the eye!  See what you're missing Briana?  Thrift stores are definitely nifty!

Seriously? Where are you Sarah Richards?!

Today I traveled to Worcester, Massachusetts to try and find that darn missing relative of mine.  I figured out that the public library happens to have a book with some of the vital statistics for Islesboro, Maine where Joseph and Sarah Hardy used to live.  Naturally, I jumped at the chance to avoid a long drive and toll roads in the hope that I might find information to make my eventual drive to Islesboro more fruitful.  Know what one of the best things about Worcester is?  The name!  When I first arrived in the East, I went around calling it "war-chester" like a Western idiot.  It wasn't long before I figured out that the locals call it "Woost-er."  I love that!  Every time I see the name Worcester now, I say out loud over and over, "Woost-er.  I'm in Woost-er - Woost-er Mass"...  I don't care what you think of me, it's a cool name and I will allow myself to feel as giddy about it as I choose...  I digress... 

Along the road, Bubba Facetimed me.  I stuck the phone up so she could see my face while I drove.  She said, "I wondered if you would be in your car driving around, but I just wanted to see your face."  I'm not exactly sure when my five year old started talking like a grown up weirdo, but I like her and I like that she would rather look at my face while I talk instead of just listening to my voice.  We chatted along as I drove and when she got sick of me, she told me she had an important video game to get back to and promptly hung up on me.  She wasted about 15 minutes of my drive to "Woost-er - Woost-er Mass" and that was nice. 

Know what SUCKS about Worcester?  You have to pay to park at the public library.  Just how "public" can a place be if you charge people to get into it?  I personally think all this paying for parking nonsense over here is ridiculous, but since I really needed to get into the library, I paid the tab and wandered in, but not before I took a Snapchat detailing how I felt about my experience...

Did I find Sarah?  Yes.  But I only found out what I already knew - that she died in Camden, Maine.  However, it looks like some idiot might have her death date wrong so I guess that's something.  Unfortunately, I still haven't seen actual proof of her body anywhere, nor did I find anything substantial about her jerk husband, so I guess the search continues. 

After spending a couple of hours in the "public" library, I decided that I deserved some ice cream from another Massachusetts town that I like to say - Swansea.  This one sounds pretty close to how it looks but the locals say it "Swanzee" and again, I just like the way they say it.  I was nearly to "Swanzee - Swanzee Mass" when I realized that it had been raining all day and that I probably needed a real umbrella more than I needed an ice cream cone.  I detoured to Target in Lincoln, Rhode Island and purchased a pretty, pink polka-dotted number.  I've owned a few umbrellas over the years, but we just don't get the rain in Idaho and Utah (my main residences) that they get in the East.  I've been through quite a few rainstorms in the last seven months and they can be quite impressive.  I derived no small amount of joy from my new umbrella because I LOVE umbrellas and know that it's going to get a lot of use.  I wished I had a nice pair of rubber boots to jump in puddles with, but had to be content looking down with disdain on all the umbrella-less fools getting drenched as they ran from their cars to the stores I visited today.  Amateurs.

After getting home, I showed off my umbrella to the frat house residents and they all pretended to give a damn, which I appreciated.  Then, we scarfed some delicious buffalo chicken mac and cheese that I made and now I'm sitting around waiting for my moron brother to call me so that I can complain about how I'm sick of trying to locate Sarah and Joseph when they obviously prefer their privacy and maybe we should just leave them in peace....  Not a bad day I say.  The only downside?  I'm now wishing I had gone to "Swanzee - Swanzee Mass" with my new umbrella so that I could have used it to keep the ice cream that I didn't get from the Ice Cream Barn dry...






 

2 "All the Way" and a Coffee Milk Please...

I flew into Rhode Island early this morning after a wonderful two weeks with Jared and the girls.  It was wonderful to just be able to be completely present in my children's lives.  I was so stressed out at my old job that I couldn't breathe and my children never had my full attention.  It's been a long time since I've been able to just enjoy everything about each of them and it was heavenly.  What did I do?  Well, for starters, I went trick or treating:

I love the tradition of the picture out in front of my folks house.  Whether our numbers be large or small, it's still fun to watch as everyone grows.  I also got to watch this lunatic hand out candy:

He was a little disappointed this year because he wasn't as busy as in years past.  My mom didn't manage to buy cheap, crappy candy this year, so it was only a two tiered system:  Regular candy bars for kids dad likes and mini candy bars for everyone else.  However, since it was slower this year, plenty of strangers got a regular sized candy bar when they probably didn't deserve them - lucky bastards. 


For a few days, I thought Halloween was going to be the highlight of my week until this happened:

That's Count Chocula on sale and since I wanted to save lots of cash, one box just wouldn't do so I purchased six.  Judge if you wish, but if you tell me that Count Chocula is disgusting, then I accept your letter of resignation because this friendship is over.

Count Chocula didn't even end up topping my vacay because I also got to soak at Lava Hot Springs which I LOVE to do in the winter.  The day we went was wonderfully warm and pleasant and I only managed to soak for about an hour instead of my three hour record.  I was really missing my brother Jameson and sister Briana, because they are champion soakers and yell at my kids more than I do when they whine to leave.  Idaho will never be the same without them unfortunately.

I did have a low spot when I got sucked into an adventure with my brother Jeff.  I have an adventure with him every time I see the moron but each one is delightfully different and memorable in its own right.  Since you never quite know what will happen when he calls, it is impossible to be adequately prepared for his lunacy.  This time he called and asked if I would help him move the chicken coop he inherited from his wife's aunt.  I had heard a rumor that the coop was large, so I offered my truck for the job and foolishly thought I would avoid a fiasco.  Wrong.  Turns out he forgot to mention that we needed to dismantle most of the gigantic chicken run which consisted of a large, traditional coop plus a converted dog run.  BTW the dog run was filled with hanging perches as if the avian residents were eagles or parrots instead of just stupid CHICKENS!  He also neglected to mention that we would need to wrangle the chickens and secure them in the coop somehow.  Thus, upon arrival I immediately realized that the flip flops I wore were going to be poorly suited for chicken chasing.  Here's my sweet hubby (also in flip flops) standing in wet chicken crap since it had also rained the day before we showed:

Jeff also neglected to adequately prepare me for just how large the main coop was.  We ended up having to hoist it up intact on the top of the truck and scraped the paint job down the length of the passenger side of the truck bed.  Thank goodness I have a POS truck or I might have murdered him.  Unfortunately, loading the main coop was only the start of my torture because we had to borrow an additional trailer from Jeff's father in law in order to finish loading the rest of the dog run part of the coop.  This was AFTER I had to stand on the bed of the truck and load the 10 stupid chickens in the main coop as Jared and Jeff caught each one and handed them on up:

And here are a few of the starring idiots that I wanted to choke to death by the end of the day:

By the end of the adventure, I had a large amount of chicken crap between my toes and my whole truck smelled like chicken poop for several days.  However, the upside was that Jeff got poop in his eyes and on his face when the little chicken jerks tried to flap away from him, squawking their fool heads off the whole time.  It was a Karma miracle.  Just how ridiculous did we look as we drove around?  Judge for yourself:

My wonderful two weeks ended with my dad showing off his guns to my friend Alyssa and her hubby Chris.  Here are just a few of his handguns (yes my mom is posing with one) but I didn't get a pic of the rifles and shotguns...

Why does he have so many guns when he rarely shoots them either for hunting or for target practice?  Everyone in the family has a theory, but I like to believe it's just because he's an eccentric weirdo.  I love him no less for it in case you were wondering and nothing about the guy ever surprises me.  That's the beauty of eccentric weirdos - they always keep you guessing.

What was the most surprising thing about my trip?  Turns out that when I left Idaho I realized that it was the first time that I didn't cry in the airport when Jared dropped me off.  Also the first time I had no anxiety about landing back in the Ocean State alone.  Come to think of it, it was also the first time that I felt glad to arrive back "home."  Something has happened to me and I feel peaceful for the first time since my April exodus to the East.  My house still hasn't sold, but I like the beauty over here, I've enjoyed all the people I've met, and feel like I belong in New England.  I'm not saying it wouldn't be wonderful to have my house sell, but I'm finally letting go of the West and embracing my future in the East.  Yep.  Pass the coffee milk people.  I'm here to stay.