I drug the kids to all the thrift stores this morning, seeking pieces for my Corelle/Pyrex Compatibles collection. The third (and last) store I went to had little tiny aisles. As I was maneuvering the giant Cadillac stroller past the clothes to the bric-a-brac, I got caught on an end display. I was working to get free, and trying not to get irritated when I heard a gleeful exclamation. I looked up, and saw an Indian man, in a blue checked shirt, with a pocket protector (I'm not making that up). He was smiling down upon an entire set of Spring Blossom Green mixing bowls. They were gorgeous and shiny and looked to be in perfect condition. I was aghast, and I said to him, "Do you collect those?", and he said "Yes. I'm sorry." and walked away, still grinning.
I will not forget your face, good sir, and if I see you at any thrift stores, I shall ditch my children, let them fend for themselves, and I will sprint past you to get to the good pyrex before you.
2 comments:
wow, I read the first four words of your blog and got really worried, but then continued on. (lol) Things happen for a reason; so we are told; and I'm sure you will find the perfect dishes when you least expect it. It's fun shopping with little ones, isn't it????
xxoo
Is it supposed to be "I dragged the kids"? I wasn't sure. I thought about that sentence for quite some time.
Those darn kids are bummer shopping companions. And now M leans forward in the stroller and pokes at T, and tries to grab his head. So then he pushes her away, saying, "No. NO." It goes on and on.
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