My favorite post yesterday on FB, where some people changed their profile picture to black, was from bink: Shine brighter!
It was good to work at the thrift store yesterday.
My coworkers were unhappy with the election results, but many are used to terrible things happening and kind of roll with it.
Out of terrible reasons (not to be romanticized), grace may come.
An expansiveness.
Watching it, I learn and practice. It's a Good.
It's like the Aeschylus Robert Kennedy quoted when MLK was murdered:
“In our sleep, pain which cannot forget falls drop by drop upon the heart until, in our own despair, against our will, comes wisdom through the awful grace of God.”(You know... MAYBE. Not always. But I've seen it.)
I'd brought two soups––one w/ ground beef, one w/ beans––made mostly from food from the food shelf:
cabbage, potato, carrots, onions... and an addition I thought up:
an apple, and a splash of apple-cider vinegar.
Apple and cabbage--I guess I didn't exactly make that up! but anyway, it was good.
Mostly I did the usual prosaic things. I priced Xmas, washed coffee mugs donated dirty, and assembled vintage stuff.
These salespeople letter openers were yesterday's coolest:
Below, bottom shelf: Baby bowler w/ mohawk ASH TRAY. I could use that tea strainer ^ spoon, come to think of it.
The 45s record holder is cracked... because *I* dropped it. Shame!Often working in thrift is like time travel. I remember those rattan mugs from childhood.
My mother disapproved of plastic––she liked Oriental carpets, wood-and-brick bookshelves, her grand piano––so we wouldn't have had them. Must've been the cool neighbors. I always loved their mod stuff.
This stuff can be valuable, especially in a set; but often there's only one. Then, not so much.
I brought home the one Vernon's Tickled Pink mug (made 1958–1965), to see if I like using it.
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