Yesterday was an epic shopping day. Hmmm... another phrase I overuse.
My sister in law Anita is visiting from Florida, and she is an accomplished thrifter. Yesterday we intended to head to some nearby consignment stores, but fate intervened.
About a mile from home, I saw THE SIGN. In the nearby old neighborhood of Lakeside, Brenda and her mother sell treasure in their garage. No license, no advertising, only THE SIGN.
This pink posterboard rectangle appears maybe twice a month on the odd Friday or Sunday. It signals to those in the know
that Brenda is open for business.
When I saw THE SIGN, I told Anita that we needed to make a quick detour. It may be too dirty, I apologized, or too hot. If you don't like it, we won't even get out of the car.
We were there for two hours. By the time we left, Anita was Brenda's new best friend.
I accumulated 1970's baby clothes with their original tags, Lefton Christmas figures, Fenton glass, a 1930's Charles Dickens book, an antique silk teddy worthy of Lady Mary Crawley, and ... PINK cowgirl boots. Absolutely meant to be mine.
Dingo, size 1. If they were 9's, I would be wearing them now.
My Mom and Brenda's Mom, both 83, visited while we shopped. We finally left with hugs and promises that Anita would return every time she comes to Virginia.
But I can go back the next time that I see THE SIGN.