..er...mis-adventures in thrifting.
Let me start by saying that I never seem to have my camera when I need it.
I don't work at the bank until noon on Friday's usually and so the other Tracey and I had this idiotic creative idea to go make the rounds thrifting in those couple of hours on Friday before I go to work. Turns out it's not the smartest plan, as this means I am dressed for banking, in business attire, which makes it challenging when schlepping sometimes dirty, dusty items out of a thrift shop or yard sale.
Anyway.
Last Friday we went to an early morning estate sale that a friend had told us about. It was on a ranch property (Looking back, I even think I remember the ad mentioned mud and to wear appropriate shoes...wish I had remembered that sooner) and the sale sounded good. (something about vintage iron cemetery fencing, and a barn full of old doors and tools)
We arrived and discovered that in order to get to the house and the barn where the sale was, you had to walk across a cattle guard. Do you know what a cattle guard is? If you don't, then click here for a visual. OK, now using that visual, picture the cattle guard being a good 12-15 feet long and it being over a creek that is about four to five feet below it. A bridge basically, with spacers. (I so wished I had taken my camera.) Now, picture if you will, a woman in black suede stiletto heeled boots and a skirt (...that woman would be me.I told you I had to go to work) trying to cross the bridge with the spacers. Um..ya, it's a no-go, people.
The other Tracey was not to be deterred from making her way to the estate sale. She crossed the cattle guard in record time (Of course she did. She was wearing faux patent leather flat loafers.) and then turned to cheer me on as (she assumed) I would follow her across. Realizing that it was an impossibility, she decided (apparently without too terribly much thought) to "toss" her shoes to me for me to then put on and boot-scoot-and-boogy across the cattle guard. She lobbed the first shoe, which she overshot, and it nearly nailed me in the head. I then prepared to intercept the second shoe, but, unfortunately this time, she underestimated the distance and it hit the last wrung of the cattle guard bridge, bounced...and, as if in slow motion, the shiny black loafer tumbled, ricocheted, and finally, plummeted onto the creek bed rocks far below the bridge.
For a moment, we both stared down at the shoe in silent horror, me with my mouth open and eyes bugging out. Then, we tried to figure out where to go from here...
Me: Oh, nice. That was great. Now what do we do?
Her: ( A sigh and shoulder shrug) I'll just have to get another pair of shoes at WalMart.
Me: What?
Her: I said, I'll just have to get another pair of shoes at WalMart.
Me: I heard you. I meant, you'll go into WalMart with one shoe and one bare foot? (Realizing as I said this that she would most certainly not be the first person to ever do that at a WalMart)
Her: Ya. We just need to get to this sale first.
Me: You don't get it! I can't come across the bridge in my boots!
At this point, she sighed a big long sigh and scurried back across the cattle guard barefoot to my side and we both studied the situation for another moment in silence, peering down at her shoe, then looking off in the distance at the barn and house full of potential treasures that awaited us.(so very close and yet, so very far.) After a few quiet moments she spoke in her matter of fact tone.
Her: I think I can just climb down there on the rocks and get to it.
Me: With only one shoe on?
Her: Yes.
Me: (eye roll and a long sigh, followed by a shoulder shrug of my own) Okay then. Go for it.
Just as she prepared to climb over the wagon wheel that was cemented into a rock (A sad attempt at decorating the entrance of the bridge we guessed. Oh, I how wish I had taken my camera!) and climb down to rescue her faux patent leather loafer, two men came walking up. We shared our sad little tale of woe with them and then one of the guys climbed down and rescued her shoe.(they didn't say it, but it was fairly clear that they thought we were a couple of dipsy-doodles) I then put on the loafers and carried my boots, while the other Tracey went barefoot (either she is more coordinated, or was more determined to shop than me...or both) and we made it across to the other side at last.
In the end it was all worth it. We found oodles and toodles of great stuff in the barn and before too long we had a good sized pile of good junk to purchase. The other Tracey was allowed to drive her car across the cattle guard to load up our pile of treasures and I silently thanked God that we didn't have to deal with walking across the bridge a second time.
(We have since decided that thrifting the two hours before I head off to the bank to work most likely isn't the best plan of action, although you can bet we'll do it again.)
