Trash Queens

Shout out to whoever abandoned these TREASURES.

Yesterday we found that we needed additional tools for the girls’ new playscape, and since we’d created the playscape for zero dollars, and because of my Western poor status, my budget was $6.  “Ha!”, you laugh.  “Impossible!”, you cry.  See, this new town I’ve moved to is pretty empty, just the way I like it.  Nobody in my neighborhood is trying to keep up with the Joneses, because the Joneses are likely now just the Widow Jones and she may not have many teeth.  Very chill, and laid back, without meaning to be.  Lots of folks who aren’t on the young end of the life-years stick.  Lots of departed furniture makers, their remnants to be found all over town at various consignment shops.  What does this mean for my family?

It means my children think we got RICH.

“Mom, do you think we could get a <<insert random, unnecessary- for-life object that children are always asking for>>?”

(Say this in a posh, British voice) “But of course, my pet.  Run and fetch your bicycle.  Mummy will take you to the SALVATION ARMY.”

We did this yesterday.

This ain't ever gettin' fixed.

A store whose sign is out of order is a store whose sticker price tags, to me, mean not a thing.  I haggle.  69 cents?  “I’ll give you 30.  No?  45.  Can’t do it?  57 cents, that’s my final offer…my final offer before I say 69 AND NOT A PENNY MORE DON’T TRYTA CHEAT ME!”  It may not always work.  It’s fun though.  The girls were happy.

Do ya see those bags on either side of her? Loot.

"Is your family rich? Because mine is."

On the way back we rode around a really beautiful cemetery.  We tried to find a stone from the 1700’s, but the really old ones were so worn they couldn’t be read.  I noted a man who’d died at 65, and Ry said, “Well that’s retirement age, right?  Maybe he really wanted to keep working, or just die.”  Forced retirement?  Works for me.  Oddly, Logan said she loved it and was going to live there.  Whatever’s clever, right?

At least she's staying in town.

Oh yes, we met Bennie, the stalker.  He was nuts.  You know how I know he’s nuts?  A) He said, “My name Bennie.  My number 560-3455.  Wusshow name?  You beautiful, girl,” about 7 times.  B)  He started following us.  He didn’t stop until I stopped and got my camera out.  C) He saw me taking this picture and wasn’t at all concerned, just said, “My name Bennie.  My number 560-3455.  Wusshow name?  You beautiful, girl.”  I told him he could ride ahead.

The best way to get a girl's address? Ask for it 2 minutes after you meet her, even if - no, ESPECIALLY if you can't remember her name.

Anyway, we scored.

Shout out to whoever abandoned these TREASURES.

Got all that for less than $5.70.  We are the queens of other people’s trash, and we’re pretty dang proud of ourselves.  As Ry said, “Mom, Big Lots, The Gingham Daisy (consignment, a later post), and the Salvation Army are just like the mall!”

Yes, Ryleigh.  Yes they are.

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Categories: Have A Laugh

Author:Kimberley

I'm Kimberley, work-at-home single momma to two girls, Ryleigh, 9, and Logan, 3. The Single Crunch is the story of our journey from a lifestyle saturated in mainstream ideals to an organic existence, and learning to love each other, ourselves, and any living thing, unconditionally. I'm passionate about breastfeeding, unschooling, single parenting, writing, grief, childhood abuse, childism, and natural living. I write about all this and whatever else moves me, which is a lot, and I throw in some funny on the regular. I'm humbled and grateful to have you reading, thank you. I hope something here will help you in any way.

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4 Comments on “Trash Queens”

  1. March 28, 2012 at 4:25 pm #

    Hilarious story! So cute your little ones got their loot. I’m the worst haggler and I always say, “Oh okay!” at the first price, d’oh!

    • March 28, 2012 at 9:34 pm #

      Thank you! I’m not a very good haggler either, as you can read lol.

  2. Susan
    March 28, 2012 at 6:35 pm #

    Love your trash!!

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