Near-Miss

I thought I'd missed the Charity Shop Challenge for this month, but no--technically this week is the last Thursday of the month. So here you go:



Gray hoodie: clothing swap
Black sweater: Banana Republic via thrift, $5.99
Wool plaid skirt: Thrift, $6.99 (?)
Tights: Old Navy, so old they don't really stay up anymore

Vintage button on a chain: made by me
Wedding rings on chain: maternal great-grandfather, paternal great-grandmother

Wellies: Sloggers via favorite garden store

I'm undecided as to whether the title of this post refers to the outfit as well as the timing. I liked the idea of a wool skirt with a hoodie and Wellies (I had in mind something very "Land Girls"), but in practice I felt rather self-conscious. Part of me thinks I am too old to dress like this. (And then again, part of me thinks I am too old to care.)

Trippy

Last weekend the kiddo and I headed down to visit my parents in Phoenix. The humorless side of me knows that the whole metroplex is kind of a New Urbanist's nightmare.



Yet I can't deny that it's nice to have a warm and sunny spot to escape to for a weekend at the tail end of a glum Seattle winter. The air is so...gentle, somehow.



I mean, you step outside and the whole world smells like orange blossoms!



Plus, I think the desert plants are really neat. (We took a walk around the block our last morning there and I snapped about 70 photos of cacti. I might subject you to a few of them in my next post.)



Lots of Dutch people around, too. (Albeit via a century or so in the American Midwest. My family included.)



My mom and I had so much fun.



All that vintage embroidery floss was sorted into categories by color, painstakingly matched up by number, and then divided up with absolute fairness.  Here's my share:



Not bad, I'd say.



12 cents a skein! Those were the days, right?



I also brought back with me the tablecloth that, my mom says, was on the table at her parents' wedding reception. The fabric is full of snags and little holes, but the rose-patterned lace is mostly in good shape, and I think it's gorgeous.

I'm trying to decide what to do with it. Any suggestions?

Oh crap, you guys...

...I own the same kitchen canisters as Sharron Angle.

This throws into question my entire existence, not to mention my aesthetic. I mean, if there had been not one but three or four of these on the shelf that fateful day at Value Village, would I now believe in chicken-based health care? I shudder to think of the possibilities.

Clever

I am lucky enough to get to spend one Sunday afternoon each month with two other aspiring novelists. Yesterday, we met at Locöl, a new-ish wine/beer/seasonal food hangout in West Seattle (and before you get all het up about the seemingly unnecessary umlaut--it's a play on the Swedish word for beer, so I heartily approve).

I liked their version of the ubiquitous tealights-on-tables: a mason jar filled with dried beans, then a small oil lamp nestled inside. Somehow it made me think of my mother's kitchen. (My mom was a semi-vegetarian suburban hippie back before that was cool again--you remember the 80s, right?)

The food was nice, too. I had a three-bean salad that featured a dressing bright with lemon juice, and my friend's tuna sandwich disappeared fast, before I even thought to ask her how it was. Recommended.

Locöl

7902 35th Ave. SW, Seattle