Sorry, Sue!

"You cheated on Sue!"

That was Cary's pronouncement during our Tuesday evening walk. I had to admit he was right &mdash technically &mdash but I also had sorta hoped he wouldn't notice that part of my story.

Sue and I were supposed to have a day of Goodwill Hunting this past Wednesday. Like all of our outings, I had looked forward to it for days, had practically counted down the last few hours, when tragedy struck: One of her friends had passed away. She had to cancel.

I understood, of course, but I couldn't help being disappointed.

I had other things to do in Salem &mdash errands thwarted by bad timing the week before &mdash so I decided to go alone. I knew it wouldn't be as much fun, but maybe I'd find some treasure that would make it worthwhile.

After my Coinstar encounter (read the previous entry if you're curious), I visited the North Salem Goodwill. OUR Goodwill, Sue might say. I sent up the hope she'd forgive me as I walked inside.

In the front display case, I saw a crystal bowl we'd seen on an earlier trip. If I remembered correctly, it should have a purple tag &mdash and therefore would be half-price this week.

I asked to see it. The woman carefully lifted it out, glanced at the bottom, and then smiled.

"Guess what?" she beamed.

It's half-price? I thought.

"It's half-price," she said, and handed it over. I can't say whether I was happier to get it half-price or that my memory was accurate... but either way, into the basket it went.

At the same counter I noticed a Fitz and Floyd lidded pumpkin in muted sage. It also sported a purple tag, and also went into the basket. The Coinstar Bad Shopping Juju Exorcism had worked.

Elsewhere in the store I found a little purple-tagged Boyds bear and not one but two of the Pfaltzgraff footed mugs my Aunt Merelyn's been wanting. Their tags were blue, meaning no additional discount, but at only $1.99 each, I wasn't complaining. Those babies usually go for $8 each, even on eBay.

Treasures in hand, I went to check out. The cashier picked up the ceramic pumpkin.

"This might be considered Halloween, which means it won't be half-off," she said.

I figured she meant Thanksgiving or Seasonal, but I got the drift. She held it up and got the attention of another cashier.

"Would this be Hallow&mdash"

Before she could finish, the bottom of the pumpkin slipped from her hand and smashed on the counter. She surveyed the shards for a second, and then slowly raised wide eyes.

"I'm so sorry," she said.

"Accidents happen," I shrugged.

She exhaled relief... then told me about a time at a previous job when a customer brought up a cookie jar &mdash "The last one, they said. They were so happy to find it." &mdash and she'd accidentally slipped and broken its base.

"They weren't as nice about it as you," she added.

Yeah, well, I'm not even supposed to be here, I thought.

After dropping the Styrofoam, buying a few groceries, and filling the car with gas, I decided to detour to the South Salem Goodwill. I hadn't had any luck finding Levi's for Cary at the North Salem location and figured it was worth a try. (So if you really think about it, he's partly to blame.)

I found two pairs of his Levi's 501s, one of which looked brand new but at a third of the brand-new price. Have I mentioned how much I love Goodwill?

I cruised the remainder of my usual aisles and caught up with a woman humming along with the music. Now, I've been known to not just sing along but also dance to the music at Safeway &mdash much to Nephew Blane's delight, especially if his mom joins in &mdash so I wasn't about to judge.

"Is this Ann Murray?" the woman asked.

"Sounds like The Carpenters to me," I answered.

"I think you're right. Very pretty."

I nodded and let her finish the song.

"Have you seen any gravy boats?" she asked.

"Sorry."

"I need a new one. Grandkids keep breaking mine. I thought maybe if I could find a metal one,..."

"Or one of Melamine, or some other plastic?" I offered.

"Yeah! I didn't think of that, but yeah."

"Well, good luck," I said and passed by.

I crossed paths with her again up front by the jackets. (So sue me. Some women love shoes; I love jackets.)

"Did you find a gravy boat?" I asked.

"No," she said, and then smiled. "That looks like it fits nice."

I was standing before a mirror, trying on a purple J. Jill corduroy blazer. Purple in both color and price tag.

"It does," I confirmed. "Even with a sweatshirt underneath. So if I had on the type of shirt I should wear with it,..."

"Is it comfortable?"

I nodded and crossed my arms in front. "It even has a bit of stretch."

"Oh, that's nice," she said, and then held out the arms of another blazer. "I kind of like this one."

"It is a pretty red," I agreed. "A nice Christmas red."

She nodded but frowned. "It's tagged a Large, though."

"I don't go by the tags. My closet has everything from an extra-small to an extra-large, and it all fits about the same."

She frowned at it a bit longer, then put it on, saying, "I always think I'm bigger than I am."

I get accused of that, too, I thought. I stepped back and motioned to the mirror. We both admired how nice the fitted jacket looked on her.

"I already have several jackets, though," she said.

"So do I; but at these prices..."

She smiled and nodded. We'd each get a jacket.

"Nice shopping with you," I said as I turned to go.

"Nice shopping with you," she replied. "Likewise."

And that, my friends, is the exchange that prompted Cary to label me a cheater.

Maybe he's right. But if anyone can forgive, it's Sweet Sue.

Recent Goodwill Finds

Poo.

So my friend Sue and I were supposed to have a day of Goodwill Hunting tomorrow, and I for one was kid-before-Christmas excited about it. We always manage to find a few neat things at great prices, but even if we didn't, a day with Sue is a treat in itself.

But then something came up and Sue had to cancel. Curses. To console myself, I decided to share some of my recent Most Amazing Finds.

First, though, before anyone wrinkles his or her nose: yes, I know it's considered impolite to mention something's cost, that it's unladylike. But to me, getting a great deal is a triumph. Why pay full retail when you can get something like-new &mdash or in some cases, new-new with tags still attached &mdash at a fraction of the price? That's just being smart.

(And I sincerely doubt many of the ladies carrying an Hermès or Louis Vuitton handbag would do so if they didn't know for certain everyone who sees it &mdash or at least everyone who matters &mdash would know how expensive it was. Apparently it's acceptable to let your bag brag.)

But a Goodwill bag is an enigma. It could contain throw-away items for a Halloween costume or genuine treasures snapped up at unbelievable savings. A couple examples of the latter include:

I found eight of these Noritake Halls of Ivy accent plates mixed in the stacks of orphaned dishes. I loved them instantly because they coordinate with my formal (read: never used) Noritake Platinum Cove china and my everyday Corelle Callaway pattern. Okay, so they're a tad fancier than the Corelle, but I imagine using them for a special dessert.

The best part? I got all eight in perfect condition for less than cost of one plate from replacements.com.

This big fellow is one of my all-time favorite finds. He's such a favorite &mdash and was such a bargain &mdash I'm willing to throw all decorum to the wind and tell you flat-out that he cost $12.15.

Why the odd price, you wonder?

His sticker price was $29.99, marked down from his original Goodwill price because apparently he'd been there a while. (I know; I don't understand why, either.) His new price tag was the discount color of the week, which in our region meant he was on sale for half-price. We saved 10 percent with a Club Goodwill card, and Sue saved me an additional 10 percent with her just-barely-earned Senior Citizen Discount.

I still can't believe I found such a huge Boyds Bear at Goodwill, let alone for that price, when his current value is more than 20 times that. Yeah: Two. Oh. That, and he makes me smile every time I see him.

Just in case you're curious about the afghan peeking out behind him, that too was a Goodwill find.

It understandably irritates Sue to see so many hours of work tossed aside (she's knitted many afghans and scarves herself), so we've rescued quite a few.... which is made easier when we can buy them for less than the cost of one skein.

Drat; now I'm all amped up about going again. I hope Sue's cancellation was really just a postponement (hint, hint)....

Let's Bring Back Glamour, Girls!

Why don't people dress up anymore?

For the sake of honesty, I'll admit I'm asking that while wearing old jeans and a sweatshirt... but at least it's a slim sweatshirt, not one I nicked from Cary's closet, and hey; I've been cleaning the oven. I doubt even Iman does that in couture.

Despite my present appearance, I really do wish I had the confidence to dress up more often, because let's face it: how many opportunities do we get nowadays? One or two proms and maybe a wedding. That's about it. And that, ladies and gents, does not cut it.

I want to be like &mdash and hear me out here &mdash an older Russian woman I saw at Wal-mart a few weeks back. In a sea of T-shirts and tattoos, here was an honest-to-goodness polished lady. Her attitude was regal yet polite, her make-up and hair were just so, her clothing elegant and classic.

But what really caught my eye was her mink pillbox hat. Not just a pillbox; a mink pillbox. I, sadly, will never be a Hat Girl, but for a few moments I was tempted to try. Maybe something with a brim, I thought...

Thankfully I already have the Cary!

During our latest Goodwill Hunting trip, my dear friend Sue found a fabulous dress. Long and strapless, in fitted black satin with an elegant cascade of embroidery and pearls near its train. Yeah; a train. This gown has some serious Old Hollywood Glamour going on.

It fit her perfectly, tiny creature that she is. She said it made her feel like Audrey Hepburn in My Fair Lady.

You're ticked they dubbed all your songs? I wondered, but then realized she meant she felt transformed, like an ugly duckling becoming a swan &mdash or in Sue's case, a lovely swan becoming a lovelier one. I told her she reminded me of Rita Hayworth as Gilda.
(Seriously. If Sue will consent to a photo, I'll gladly prove it to you.)

"But where would I wear it?" she asked.

Good question.

Now no matter where we're going or what we're doing, Sue always looks polished and put together. I don't mean heels and pearls; just a bit nicer than those around her (like, for instance, me). But even the gorgeous Miss Sue might feel a skooch out of place wearing such a slinky number grocery shopping.

But maybe if we all started dressing a bit nicer, it wouldn't seem so shocking to consider wearing the gown to dinner or to a play. Maybe if we took a cue from our First Lady &mdash or if you prefer, the ladies of Mad Men &mdash we could bring elegant dressing back into everyday life. Or at least touches of it.

Sue bought the dress, by the way, Places to Where It be damned. It was too wonderful to leave behind, and it only cost... Well, I guess ladies don't discuss cost, do they? Let's just say the only thing more shocking than how great Sue looked in the dress was how little it cost.

"Even if I just wear it around the house," she smiled, "I'll feel like Audrey Hepburn."

That time I pictured a Breakfast-at-Tiffany's Audrey instead of a My-Fair-Lady Audrey, and I have to admit I could see it.

I just hope she doesn't wear it while cleaning the oven.