Wednesday, February 6, 2013


The hunt is definitely part of the fun. Finding it, as my dad used to say about catching a fish, is a bonus. When I find myself in a thrift store, my eye is trained to look for certain items. It comes in handy when I have just a few minutes to zip through Goodwill or the local "This and That." My eye scans the book spines, looking for titles that match my Pinterest lists. My hand brushes over the girls' dresses, feeling for quality, well-made pieces. I glance over the drinking glasses, looking for the sturdy stemware that we affectionately call "Beaver Glasses" (they remind me of something you'd see on June Cleaver's immaculate dinner table).

Don't these just scream, "Milk and cookies!"?

Finally, I crane my neck around the corner to check the bake ware shelf, just in case there's any vintage Pyrex lying around. It's becoming more rare to find them (especially without scratches), but today I had my bonus. Make that two bonuses. There they were, nestled together with the larger yellow one (which I already own . . . again), and at a price that I knew was pretty decent. (I had just seen the green one marked at twice the amount at a local antique shop.)

They had just come in yesterday (did you know the date is printed on the bottom right-hand corner of the Goodwill price tags? Thrifty news you can use . . .), and they were all ready to come home with me. Such happy mixing bowls. I snatched them up, trying not to look too greedy, and wheeled my cart nonchalantly around as though it was no big deal that my day just got awesome.

Happy green. Happy red.

I brought them home and washed them. Hand washed them. Just like my mom hand washes hers -- the bowls that her own mom hand washed, too. We don't want the color to fade or scratch. I wondered if these bowls had once belonged to a young bride. How many dozens of chocolate chip cookies had been whipped up in these bowls? How many eager children swiped globs of dough while their mother pretended to be stern about it? I dried the bowls and nestled them together on the shelf with the yellow one. The kids agreed that they all look very happy together, and can't wait to swipe their own globs of dough.

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  1. Dare I admit (especially so publicly) that I have been guilty of the occasion dish washer treatment of these dear treasures?



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