Yesterday I was in Goodwill. On a mission to find a few things for the events that Courtney and I are working on, BUT always on the lookout for things that I personally can't live without. With already a few sweet finds in my basket, I passed by these two women whose baskets revealed the mother lode of my kind of thrifting . . . specifically, vintage glass and ceramic pieces with flowers. One piece, in particular, caught my eye — an old, cracked pitcher in all the colors I love and with flowers galore — and caused that heartbeat skip that says "dang, if only I'd been here a minute earlier." And like any true-blooded thrifter, I kept walking by her basket and looking at it, hoping I'd decide that it really isn't at all what I like, in fact, it's downright ugly (not). In other words, punishing and torturing myself.
Today, I popped into Goodwill again and lo and behold, setting on a shelf (in a section where it obviously didn't belong) was the pitcher. She must have decided that she didn't need it, or that the cracks were flaws she couldn't live with, or better yet . . . it was made for me. Look . . . isn't it beautiful. And for $3.
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