modem, thrift store and surprise discoveries

Ta-da!

We have internet service again.

Not that this appears any differently to you, but to me – it sure does.

I was so grateful to discover that little app on my phone to make posting blog entries much easier, but I still prefer the larger screen, the keyboard and its clickety-clack sounds and access to links and what-not.

Our modem was struck by lightning before we left for Virginia and today we finally had time to get that problem fixed.

Plus, a new modem would have cost almost a hundred dollars, according to First AT&T Man on the Phone.  However, Second AT&T Man on the Phone said we could simply exchange our current inoperable modem for a functioning one at no cost.

(I like Second AT&T Man on the Phone best.)

And that’s just what we did.

Man, today was just a day that made filling in our grateful notebook so easy.

(Maybe tomorrow I’ll take a few minutes to write about that grateful notebook – per Alicia’s request.)

Can I just share this little story?

(Well, of course I can.  Who’s going to stop me, really?  But, you know, I’m a girl who likes politeness.  So there you have it.)

Headed to our local thrift store.

Bergen wants to build bird baths out of tea cups and saucers as he saw in a library book, so we were off to search for fun saucers and tea cups.

Long story, made shorter (sort of):

Tea cups – found.

Silly shirt for Kevin – found.

Two dresses at half-priced for two girls who don’t like to wear dresses but need them for an upcoming wedding – found.

A ruffled shirt of the style that is not my normal style but I think I would like to try without committing to spending very much money on the new style attempt for $1 – found.

Another pink, not quite my style either, but cute for hot summer days in our house $1 shirt – found.

And then, and then . . .

it was like light shone down from the sky.

A pair of fallen over boots on the floor in the “boutique” section of the store.  (Isn’t that funny?  Does anyone else visit a thrift store bold enough to have a “boutique” section?)

That’s where I saw them.

Suddenly, I couldn’t hear my children speaking nor could I hear the obnoxiously loud squeaking sound of my poorly-chosen cart.

All I could hear was the sound of these boots, speaking my name.

About two years ago I think I saw this pair of boots on the Pioneer Woman blog.

I loved them.  (Oh, how I love boots.  Indeed, how I do.)

She had a contest to win the boots.  I signed up.  I didn’t win.  She had a second contest for the same boots.  I signed up.  I didn’t win.  Again.

I allowed the dream of owning a pair of Frye boots to die as soon as I discovered the price of purchasing a pair of said shoes.

Yes.  $328.

You can see why such a dream was over before it began.

And here I was – in a thrift store – staring at a pair of genuine Frye boots.

I didn’t think.

I didn’t look at the size.

I didn’t look for a little white computer-printed sign that would tell me what the going rate for a pair of boots was at a thrift store.

I just carefully picked up the boots and tried not to squeal as I gathered my children and took them to the dressing rooms.

The girls tried on their dresses.  I tried on my ruffles shirt.

I waited through the try-ons.  I tried not to stare at the boots.  I didn’t want to ruin the illusion that this might actually be the find of the year.

I didn’t want to break the spell by realizing that the shoes were a popular size 6 or see that they had a giant ink stain across the toe or a hole across the top.

I wasn’t ready for any of that yet.

Finally, everyone was finished with trying clothes on.  I liked the ruffles on the shirt.  The dress I tried on was waaay too small.  London consented to wear the dress she tried on but wished she could wear arm warmers with it.  (To a July wedding!)

And my time had arrived.

I studied the boots cautiously.

No ink stains.  No tears.  A little wear on the back of the heel, but just enough to give it character.  Worn in, definitely.  But in good leather – it looked lovely.

No visible size printed anywhere.

I sighed.

And began to ease my foot into the boot.

My size eight and a half foot.

I might have let out a squeal – just a small one, mind you – right then!

The shoe fit!

The boots were mine!

I turned the shoe over – four hideously orange stickers decorated the bottom of the boots.

$12.

Yeah, I know they are just shoes.

But, I’m telling you – it felt like something cooler than that today, cramped in a thrift store dressing room with five of my little lovelies crowding our space – it just felt like so much more than a fun pair of boots.

So.  

Is it too hot to wear them tomorrow?