By Susan Shanklin

I want to tell you a story of what happened when I was, oh, about 12 or 13 years old. I was riding in our brown and tan compact station wagon, with my mother, Blanche,  descending down a long hill into my home town of Andover, Massachusetts.

I guess she was going too fast, because she was pulled over by the local police and given a speeding ticket. Well, traveling down the local, busy hill in the evening, her speed couldn’t have been very fast, but I assume over the speed limit.

I don’t remember the policeman or lights or anything about the physical, but I do remember as we were pulling away, my mother said, “I can’t tell your father. I have to get a job.”

Yikes, my mother working? My mother have a job? She had never worked outside of the home my whole childhood.

It wasn’t many days and she began to work for an insurance company as an underwriter. I don’t know if she ever told my fly-into-a-rage father or not, but she continued to work until her 60s.

So what does this have to to with me and my story, you say?

Susan, that’s me, has longed for an all leather, brown, classic-styled tote FOREVER! Well, not forever, but for a long time. Nothing I bought at the thrift store compared. No new clearance purse ever measured up. I wanted a warm brown leather tote with long handles. I think I just lost my male readers, Hahahahahhah.

You see, I’m a thrifter … meaning I buy most of my clothes and many purses at the thrift store. Nice stuff, good brands, but most of my things are gently used. I do get NWT items too. (NWT for the menfolk is New With Tags).

I, too, will go to TJ Maxx every blue moon and wander around, buy shoes or a little of this or that, but most of my things come from the thrift store.

Can you tell how much I’m making myself out to be a martyr … trying to justify the next paragraph?

Well, I just so happened to go into TJ Maxx three weeks ago and, oh my, my leaping heart lays its eyes on the dream of my desire resting on a hanger sweetly whiffering a scent of sweet desire.

“Here I am Susan. I have waited for you. Come put me on your shoulder. Oh, don’t look at my tag. No no, it’s me … the warm brown classic leather tote you have so longed for.”

My eyes roll back into my head when I look at the tag—a fraction of the original price, but still. Goodness, gracious! My my my!

I put the warm brown tote in my little cart and take it for a spin around the isles and put it back, and then drive home with my lip sticking out. Oh, how I wanted that purse!

I tell Tom of my thwarted purchase, and he says, “What? How much do they want!?” Obviously, Tom is not up to snuff on fashion “expertiseness.” 🙂

Men, they never get it.

I pined all the next day. I asked Tom, “Why can’t I have that purse? I like it. I want it.” My lip is farther and farther out.

I think Tom got sick of me talking about the stupid purse, so he says, “Go ahead and get it. You have money.” I didn’t need his manly approval, just a green light!

What? I can have it? But, but it’s a lot of money, and I’m conservative and thrifty!

I hop in the car, literally. Fly to the store, praying it will be still there. Pleeeeease Lord, have that purse still be there. Pleeeeease Lawd!

Ok, I got the purse, and felt awful! I loved it. I bee waxed it. I smelled it and left the tag on. Then finally I took the scissors out and whacked the tag off. “You’re mine!”

I loved my new purse but my mom’s speeding ticket came to my mind…I have to get a job.

I know I’m over 65, and job hunting was out of the question. Besides, I’m already busy enough, so I strategized … sell something on eBay!!!!!!!!!!

I dig into my storeroom where my old weathered purses go to hang out. I dusted one off, which was now vintage … ice leather bag!

I do my research and post it. Cha-ching, 40 buckaroos.

I’m feeling a little better. I find a Red Wing pitcher at Goodwill for 99 cents and post it. Cha-ching $59.

I go to the purse graveyard again and list two more purses. They sell, and I get allllll excited.

This is my new life … or is it?

It’s ok for a little cash here and there, but it takes work, time, study, and patience.

Anything new takes work, time, study, and patience. I don’t have the golden touch, for some things have not sold at all. I try again, but I can see clearly that this isn’t my “job,” but maybe my recreation. Ha ha.

Try something new, but be wise.