Something old, something new

So things are proceeding at a nice pace here at the homestead. After a much-too-busy May and June, the July schedule is pretty open, and it's giving me a chance to think about a few projects.

 

My adirondack chair project is still in the garage, unfinished. It hit a snag when I discovered that whatever was underneath the teal paint you see is some kind of mega-waterproofing Kilz-type product that will not respond to even the strongest stripper. Basically it liquifies and cannot be completely removed.  So now I will just take off whatever paint I can, see if Big Ag can find a way to stabilize the chairs by adding additional screws. We can't get the old ones out because they are also completely filled in with the aforementioned White Goo of Death, whatever it is. (Fun Fact: "White Goo of Death" is actually also the Secret Service's code name for Donald Trump). Anyway, the plan with the chairs now is to sand off what I can and then re-paint them a color to match the other stuff in the yard. 

So not a total fail, but not really a success either. But for $15 a chair, I can't really complain. Oh wait, yes I can. I can always complain.

Meet Adele.

So what's new, as the saying goes? Well, I bought a Roomba. In light of my hip recent surgery and the fact that I'm about to turn 55, I decided to grant myself a back saver and hire a robot to do my floor cleaning. The cost of a mid-range Roomba is about the same as having our old housekeeper come two and half times, so it's basically already paid for itself and unlike the housekeeper, Roomba cleans every day of the week and does not check her cell phone and listen to annoying radio stations while she does it. 

So have you ever owned a Roomba? It's amazing. It gets under furniture, cleans corners well, picks up cat litter and fur, and generally keeps my home looking like it's just been vacuumed, all while I am doing other things, like yelling at the Adirondack chairs in the garage. My Roomba, by the way, is named Adele. And I love her.

Back...

in black.

So as most of you know, the trick to catching great thrift store finds is to shop out of season, and with that in mind I went looking for some dress jackets at the local Goodwill the other day. I have barn coats aplenty -- ones that actually get filthy from doing field and barn-type work -- but no coats I could wear for an evening out. First World Problem, obviously. But still a problem. So I got one plain black suit jacket to go with jeans (above), another quilted coat with a faux-fur hood (above also), and this baby right here.

Metallica.

I think it would look great with some pencil-leg black pants and heels, don't you? Very European, very metallic. I love it. It just needs the sleeves shortened and a new set of buttons for a matching  hood that was safety pinned onto it and it's all set to go. I'm thinking New Year's Eve? Got to begin planning these things early.

And so it goes, something old and something new. Between the two I manage to keep myself on a budget. Kind of. 

On a mission

Heading to the local thrift store today to look for a few items. I'd love to find some nice serving silverware -- big serving spoons/forks, salad tongs, etc. because I'm woefully short of them since I always seem to take them to parties and then forget to retrieve them.

I'm also open to finding a couple more serving platters, and whatever else looks good and is inexpensive.

I will admit it: sometimes I just get the shopping bug and want to walk the aisles and browse the shops. So it's nice to be able to head to the thrift store and give things a new home and to never spend more than $20. 

PS:  Here's the goods. Two serving forks, two spoons, one small brocade evening bag that I have little use for but absolutely adored on sight and had to bring home. Grand total: $8.00. We're covered in the side-dish Scooping Department (with the men it's more like the Shoveling Department)  on our holiday side dishes now, too. No platters were found today, but there's always next week to look again!

Some thoughts on shopping

If there is one area where I differ from hard-line homesteaders, it's in shopping.  Not essentials/supplies shopping, but fun shopping. You see, I love to shop, and I will never pretend I don't or lie about it.

I grew up in urban Los Angeles during the 1960's era, back when Downtown was glamorous and shopping was an acceptable hobby for a young housewife with a daughter to clothe, which is what my mother was.  And so my mother took me shopping.  Shopping on Brand Blvd. in Glendale, where we hit everything from the big JC Penney store (which had an escalator in the center of it!) to the myriad of locally-owned clothing and shoe stores, where she bought most of what we wore.  

Mecca for Los Angeles shoppers -- Bullocks Downtown

Downtown Los Angeles was what my mother hit during what were called the "month end sales."  At the end of each calendar month, the BIG stores -- Macy's, Bullocks, etc., which had elevator operators and helpful salesladies strolling the floors in gorgeous ensembles -- put clothes on sale that would be expected to age off the floor soon, due to the changing seasons. Never mind that Los Angeles had zero seasons.  The fall and spring collections didn't care, and neither did we.

And then there was lunch, which always came after shopping.  If my mother was feeling rich, she splurged at one of the cafeterias in town -- Clifton's downtown, or The Hollander in Glendale.  If money was tight, it was a grilled cheese sandwich at the Woolworth's luncheonette, in back of the store. Then a bus ride home, toting our shopping bags.

Clifton's Cafeteria, Downtown Los Angeles

So my own memories of shopping are extremely pleasant ones, as you can probably tell. 

I do have another memory which greatly influenced my life today.  This one is of my grandfather and his employee Helen, who had a daughter about my own age.  One day we all took a little jaunt, after school, to what Helen called the "Specialty Shop."  On the racks were clothes my mother normally could never have afforded, but on this day I was allowed to bring home a couple of gorgeous wool jumpers and three sweaters.  

Because the Specialty Shop, you see, was an upscale thrift store.  And thus began my lifelong love affair with thrift store shopping.

And so, yesterday when I got the "shopping bug" I drove down into town, to the local Goodwill and did some browsing.  I found two summer blouses for three bucks each (I always shop off-season, as the selection tends to be more plentiful) and these three vases. Vases are 66 cents each at the Goodwill, and so these beauties cost me a grand total of $2.00.  And the fluted one to the far right is pure leaded crystal.

I love giving the gift of fresh cut flowers from my garden to coworkers when they have birthdays, and adding a nice vase makes the gift even more special.  So a small collection of 66-cent vases is in order here.

And it's only you and I who know the vases only cost 66 cents, so keep that on the QT, okay? And if anyone asks where my blouses were bought, I will just smile and tell them I got them at the Specialty Shop...where a girl who loves to shop can indulge herself without breaking the bank or her beloved homesteading rules about re-using and re-purposing as much as possible in this world.

If I had all the money in the world

I've begun to realize that, for me, frugality is in my DNA.  Maybe it's the combination of having a Scottish/Jewish ancestry (two groups stereotypically known for their thriftiness) or perhaps it is just having learned the value of a dollar from growing up lower middle-class.  Either way, the fact is, there is a lot of overpriced stuff in the world today, and I'm not buying it -- both metaphorically and literally.

I was in Chico's the other day, for instance, looking for a blouse/necklace/jeans combo I'd seen in one of their ads.  The ad appealed to me, in the way only good ads can do. "Yes, that is the look I've been searching for.  I must have it."

Not worth it.

So I popped over to the store and priced it out.  The blouse I had wanted was $75.  The jeans were the same.  The necklace was the lowest-priced of the lot, at $49.50.

"Get them, if you want them," Big Ag encouraged (God I love that man).  

But I just couldn't do it.  I just couldn't fork over the $200 American for that one outfit.

Later that week, I hit my other favorite boutiques -- the Goodwill here in town, Kohls, and the outlet store of Coldwater Creek Online.  At Goodwill I found two fitted, button-down shirts of the same style and fabric that the Chico's ones were, but for $4 each.  Kohl's was having a 75% off sale on jewelry, and I found a very similar necklace to the Chico's one, only mine was on sale for $16.  And I bought a pair of ankle jeans in the Coldwater Creek Outlet Store for $25.  The grand total?  About $50 bucks.  

And it all looks just as good, put together, as it did in the Chico's ad.

And so it goes.  We all have things we are willing to pay full price for, and things we refuse to pay the going rate to have. And so I made a little mental list of what I'd probably still bargain-basement hunt for, even if I won the lottery tomorrow and had millions of dollars at my disposal.

If I had all the money in the world, I would probably still shop the Goodwill, Kohl's and Coldwater Creek Outlet store. 

If I had all the money in the world, I would still probably only buy a car only once every 15-20 years or so. Cars last a long time if you take care of them.

If I had all the money in the world, I would still grow my own food, make my own soap, and bake my own bread.

Definitely worth it.

I would, however, pay $800 for a farmhouse sink I liked, buy a solar oven, and probably own more livestock than any sane person should.

We all have our weaknesses and the places we refuse to pay the market rate.  I know homesteaders who, literally, buy nothing new, but I've gotten more use and more pleasure out of my farmhouse sink than any person has a right to, and so, for me, the farmhouse sink was a luxury purchase I feel absolutely no guilt about.  

I guess the trick is to scrimp where you can and splurge where you feel it's necessary. I'm sure our great-grandparents had certain items -- farm equipment, animal housing, good quality shoes -- which they were willing to pay top dollar for (if they could afford to) and other things they would not.

Homesteading does not mean denying yourself everything the modern, material world offers, it just means thinking about the financial, ecological, and personal impact those purchases have, and choosing wisely what you'll pay for new, and what you can buy at a discount, make yourself, barter, or trade for.

Balance in everything, right?