Adoration

There is nothing that prepares you for the adoration of a baby.

In all my adult life, I’ve been praised for things I’ve done, accomplishments, achievements. I’ve never, however, been awarded simply for being alive.

That’s what a baby does for you. When I’m nursing Brielle or changing her diaper, smoothing back her crazy curls or rubbing lotion into her soft, chubby arms, she looks up at me with complete amazement.

And then she smiles that sweet, sweet little grin … well, that’s love, pure and simple. It doesn’t matter to her what I look like (or smell like), if I make enough money or keep an immaculate home. All that matters is that I’m her mommy and I’m with her.

To be present is enough to gain my daughter’s complete devotion.

{Photo courtesy of K Giese Photography. Be sure to check out Krista's beautiful photos – I'm sure you'll see some familiar faces!}

Just right quick

Does anybody else say that? "I'll be there, just right quick?" No? Am I the only ungrammatical one in the bunch?

Hmmm.

Anyway, I just had to post this just right quick: I won a $100 Amazon gift card from Ashley at Money Saving Mom by participating in her Pin-A-Thon!

Seriously, I'm so excited! (And thank you, Ashley!)

I recently started entering blog giveaways after being inspired by reading about other moms' success with them. And though I don't believe in "luck", I am not usually the person who wins things.

Then I discovered blogs that list low-entry giveaways, like Tight Wad in Utah and Oh So Savvy Mom (usually under 200 entries). Most nights, once Evangeline is asleep and I'm cuddling with Brielle, I spend about 30 minutes to an hour entering these giveaways. Our budget is tight, as I'm sure many households are with young children, so to satisfy my shopping cravings, I get my retail therapy by entering contests.

Even without winning today, I'd probably keep on entering, but now that I've had a taste of success, I'm sure my efforts will be renewed.

I had to share, just right quick. And may the odds be ever in your favor.

Denim + colorblocked

I think working in downtown Lincoln has made me a little more adventurous in my wardrobe choices. 

Granted, I rarely see anyone who doesn't work with me, but I'd like to think I'd fit in with the trendy Haymarket crowd. Or at least not stick out like a complete out-of-towner ... 

Colorblocked jersey dress - Delia's - thrifted

Denim blazer - LOFT - thrifted

Gray booties - Sam and Libby - 6pm.com

Evangeline's PJs were a big sister gift, and speaking of being a big girl, when did her legs get so long? 

She's a total mushpot these days, giving hugs and kisses out like she invented them.

You won't hear me complaining ...

Lime + zebra

On a dreary Monday, this graphic print cardigan and lime green long-sleeved T-shirt helped brighten my day. Also, the cute baby helped just a little bit ...

Zebra print cardigan - Eyeshadow - thrifted

Lime green long-sleeved T-shirt - Mossimo - thrifted

Black pants - Express - thrifted

Boots - Sam & Libby via 6pm.com

Brielle's dress - Gymboree - gift 

Human stories

"There are only two or three human stories, 

and they go on repeating themselves as fiercely 

as if they had never happened before."

O Pioneers!

We're born. We grow up. We have disappointments and triumphs. We fall in love and out of love. We struggle and cry, flourish and laugh. We grow older, fatter, wiser. We age. We die.

When I consider my life, I am reconciled to the fact that it is a brief hiccup in the human symphony, a quarter note of song quickly over. Death is unwelcome, certainly, but it is no stranger.

That is, for myself.

But when I consider the lives of my daughters, I refuse to accept that their existence is anything but ordinary.

How can it be, when their arrivals into the world changed my life forever?

It's true, their lives will follow a similar path to mine, to every other human person who draws breath. Their stories, though the details may vary somewhat, will be in essence sequels of mine. And my story is merely a sequel to those of who came before me.

It doesn't mean, however, that a familiar story is not worth hearing again.

My life has been full of tremendous joy. I do not know how much of it I have left, but if my 27 years are all I'm allotted ... I can't say I've wasted them.

If my daughters' stories, their lives, have purpose and are full of love, then those are human stories worth repeating.

"You remember what you once said ... 

the old story writing itself over? 

Only it is we who write it, with the best we have."

O Pioneers!

Waves and curls

I get my hair cut about twice a year, so this is how it looks when it's reached the scary split end stage:

I realize it doesn't look that bad in this photo, and I chalk that up to Day-Of-Haircut Syndrome. Do you experience this? The day I get my hair trimmed is inevitably my best hair day in months ...

Anyway, I got about three inches cut off and now it feels tremendously healthier, though not noticeably shorter:

{Jacket - LOFT - thrifted; blue T-shirt - thrifted; white tank - maternity - thrifted; jeans - 70% off - Herberger's}

I've had long hair for the majority of my adult life, a holdout from my ballet days when it had to be long enough for a bun. 

It used to be super curly ...

... but since having my girls, it's become more wavy than curly. 

Has this happened to anyone else?

I'm sometimes think about chopping it all off to see if those curls will come back, 

but I'm too much of a chicken to try it. 

"But my name's not that long!"

One of the best parts of moving is Evangeline gets to spend more time with her cousin (technically, since Cool Cousin is my first cousin's daughter, that makes her Evangeline's second cousin and my first cousin once removed). CC is three — a very precocious three — and Evangeline lights up every time she sees her. 

The other night after Tuesday Night Supper (yes, that's a thing, and yes, I'll write about it eventually), CC came over to our house for a mini dance party. "Just Dance 2" was entertaining the big people (my sisters, CC's mom and her friend), but CC and Evangeline entertained themselves. Toddlers are exceptionally good at this. The only danger comes when they are quiet for stretches of five minutes or longer. That's when you need to stop whatever you are doing, quickly imagine every dreadful scenario possible and, trying to keep the panic out of your voice, vocally inquire after your child. 

Fortunately, CC is a good influence and Evangeline adores her. So if CC decides they will play with blocks, they will play with blocks. This night, apart from being fun, was relatively calm. 

There were, however, a couple of really cute exchanges: 

CC, after our stupid cat Rosie (she legitimately is stupid; I'm not being mean) hissed at her: "Mama - that cat meowed really loud at me!"

CC's mom: "Oh, she just doesn't know who you are."

CC (in tears): "But my name's not that long!"

CC, upon seeing my nurse Brielle under a cover: "What's the baby doing?"

Me: "She's eating."

CC: "Oh. Can I see her while she's eating?"

Me (not wanting to scar her young eyes with the sight of my postpartum bosom): "Well, why don't we wait until she's done. She's a baby and she needs her privacy to eat."

CC, nodding: "That's why I'm glad I'm a big girl."

"Just wait, Mommy, just wait ... before you know it, I'll be speaking in complete sentences, too, and you'll have LOTS more to write about."

Catching up ...

What we've been up to since moving here: 

Settling into a new office: 

Enjoying lots of family time: 

Exploring Lincoln's libraries: 

Catching Husker fever:

Watching Brielle grow by leaps and bounds every day: 

And keeping up with our fun two-year-old:

Altogether, life is very sweet.

Two

Dear Evangeline,

Today is your second birthday, and I'm trying to figure out how that's possible, because just five minutes ago, this is what you looked like: 

I love you so much, Bunny-Girl, and I hope the coming years will be full of me saying it and you knowing it. 

The past two years have been delightful. You are sweet and funny and smart and OK, maybe a little headstrong sometimes, and I have loved every minute of getting to know who you are. 

By your first birthday, you could walk and were starting to talk (although you had no teeth). 

By your second birthday, you can count to twenty, know the alphabet, can recognize and identify numbers, letters, colors and shapes, know what animals say and best of all, say "I love you". 

Every day, you grow more beautiful and though it seems impossible, the love your father and I have for you expands. You are the little girl who made us parents, and we are completely crazy about you.

Happy birthday, sweet Evangeline! 

May God bless your second year of exploring this wonderful world.

For Evangeline's birth story, go here.

A snapshot of today

Before 8 a.m. today, I: 

• Nursed Brielle

• Checked my e-mail/blogged

• Showered and dressed

• Washed dishes

• Made coffee {and drank it like a mad fiend calm and rational adult}

• Fed Evangeline

• Changed two diapers

• Prepped Brielle's bottles for the day  

• Made myself lunch

This is what happens when your children allow you to sleep for more than three hours per night. 

I could get used to this ...

Signature color

I know I run the risk of certain comments whenever I wear purple - believe me, after 27 years of being named Violet, I've most of them. Well, the polite ones, anyway. 

But there's no denying it's a pretty and flattering color, so it's often in my rotation.

It's literally my signature color.

White long-sleeved T-shirt - thrifted

Purple tank - Kohl's clearance 

Gray skirt - Gap Outlet from high school {thanks, Mom, for making me buy it a little big ... it fits perfectly 10 years later!}

Periwinkle tights - Wal-Mart clearance

T-strap heels - Target {purchased for Arsenic and Old Lace in 2009; I've gotten so much use out of them}

{I know I look super tired and a little manic in this picture; the girls have been staggering their sleep schedules lately and I'm feeling a bit run down. So that's why I dress for the days I want to have ... not the days that are trying to have me!}

Home

From this ... 

to this ...

and from here ...

to here, 

all in the space of two weeks. 

In other words, it's been a little bit exhausting to be a member of the Kirk family these days. 

It was incredibly difficult to lock the door to our little white house and walk away. 

Before I did, I went through all the rooms, sobbing like my four-month-old daughter, and prayed for the family who eventually buy the house. 

That house was the first home our girls knew, the place where I spent sleepless nights feeding them and countless waking hours marveling at the miracle of new life. 

That house was where we entertained friends and shared meals, where we watched way too much TV and ate more junk food than I want to admit. 

That house was where we fought and made up, where we agonized over the uncertainty of the future and where we eventually released things into God's hands. 

I will always love that house. But I'm ready to let another family make their own memories there. 

And you know what? The house where we're living now has some pretty spectacular memories of its own … 

Thankful

Over the years, I have written intermittently in this gratitude journal: 

My aunt gave it to me while I was in college. It got lost in the shuffle of several moves after graduation, but during our most recent relocation, I rediscovered it. 

I've been writing it during my morning devotions lately, and I'm struck by how the things I was thankful for seven years ago are still the things I'm thankful for today: 

Of course, my gratitude list has grown since then: 

But overall, it's clear that God is steadfast and true; His mercies are new every morning.

{And PS - my computer, though an upgrade from my sophomore year of college, is thankfully still virus-free!}

Enter His courts with thanksgiving and His courts with praise; 

give thanks to Him and praise His name. 

For the LORD is good and His love endures forever; 

His faithfulness continues through all generations.

Psalm 100:4-5

I'm back!

Oh, I've missed this. A lot has changed over the last month — new house, new city, new job, new age — but I've found my need for self-expression via the written word has not.

I'm eager to get back into the swing of writing regularly, especially since my new job doesn't require it much, so expect to see me posting in this space a lot more often. Thanks for sticking with me during the transition!

I'll kick things off with a thrifty outfit post:

Purple ruffle top - clearance at a {formerly} local boutique {well, I guess it's still local, just not for me!}

Olive cardigan - clearance at Pamida

Pants - Lands End via Goodwill {$3.99, I think?}

Necklace - Wal-Mart clearance

Boots - Lassen via 6pm.com {I know you can't see them, but they're there. And they're awesome. I will write a separate post about them later.}

I'm quite glad I picked this piece up, because the colors have proven very versatile for transitioning into fall. It's actually a long necklace {hangs to my mid-section}, but I used a clip-it to make it shorter and easier to wear for work.

I'm still here!

In the midst of moving, unpacking, starting a new job and take care of the girls, it's been a little busy at Kirkhaven 2.0.

But I have lots to share with you, just as soon as we get our Internet service up and running. So for now, I'll leave you with a photo of my view this morning:

Public service announcement

I started a Facebook page for Kirkhaven - you can find it here. 

Oh, and so this isn't completely a waste of a post: 

Whaddya mean, we're MOVING? Nobody ran this by ME!
{Can you believe this was taken almost a year ago? She has grown up so much!}

The last one

Dear Cuming County,

I left off my letter last week extolling your praises, and if I had stopped there, I would be leaving out so much.

I’ll miss being part of the West Point Community Theatre, helping make decisions as part of its board of directors and appearing on stage in performances (although I haven’t completely ruled this out ... it’s not that far from Lincoln to West Point).

I’ll miss being a TeamMates mentor. I was in the program for only one year, but even in that short amount of time, it made an impact on my life. I hope I made a difference.

I’ll miss being part of Elkhorn Valley Arts Unlimited and being part of a community of people dedicated to supporting the arts.

I’ll miss attending worship at Zion St. John Lutheran Church, the “singing-est” church I’ve ever known.

I’ll miss the Wisner News-Chronicle staff tremendously. Perhaps you don’t know, but the individuals who put out your newspaper each week are quite awesome. They are smart and hard-working professionally, and personally, they are some of the best people I know.

As I review the list of things I’ll miss, it’s clear that Cuming County is a special place, inhabited by exceptional people.

Since writing last week, many people have expressed their sadness at our moving, and I respond with “we’re not going to be gone forever.”

Cuming County, and Wisner in particular, is where my family went from being two to three, and then to four. It’s where Jim and I bought our first house and filled it with sweet memories. It’s where I spent some of the best years of my life, and so how could I possibly leave it for good?

Expect to see us for future Cuming County Fairs, WPCT productions and St. Patrick’s Day parades.

In the meantime, I’ll be starting my new job on Aug. 27 at the Nebraska Press Advertising Service in Lincoln. I’ll be the advertising assistant, and so in effect, I’ll still be working for the Wisner News-Chronicle ... along with the 174 other Nebraska newspapers that are Nebraska Press Association members.

And while I won’t have a weekly column anymore, you’ll still be able to read my work at Kirkhaven, my personal blog (http://alloneway.blogspot.com), or e-mail me at the.kirk.4@gmail.com.

This is harder to wrap up than I thought. I’m torn between excitement at the new adventure in our lives, and sadness at leaving this one behind.

So I guess I’ll close On the Lighter Side with a most sincere thanks to you all for reading my words. It’s been a blessing to me, and I hope it has been to you also.

All the best,
Violet

And just for funsies, here's a photo gallery of some of my performances at West Point Community Theatre. For the record, if my girls are a little on the dramatic side, I have NO IDEA from whom they get it ...

As Tiffany Houston in "Back to the 80s" {2009}

"Back to the 80s"

As Sheila Hussy in "Rustler's Revenge" {2009}

As Elaine Harper in "Arsenic and Old Lace" {2009}

"Arsenic and Old Lace"

"Arsenic and Old Lace"

As the Milkmaid, far left and four months pregnant, in "Oliver!" {2010}

As Kate in "A Pirate's Life for Me" {2011}

"A Pirate's Life for Me"

On the Lighter Side

Published Aug. 15, 2012

Dear Cuming County ... I’ll miss you

Short and sweet good-byes are not my style, apparently.

I closed out my newspaper column with a two-part love letter to the county we'll be leaving in less than a week. Here's part one:

The view from our front door {obviously not recently}

This is a really difficult column to write. It’s my penultimate offering to you, the readers of the Wisner News-Chronicle, before my family and I move to Lincoln at the end of this month.

The decision to move has been a long time coming, and is bittersweet. The bitter I’ll get to in a minute, but the sweet will be finally living close enough to our families to call them neighbors.

If you’ve read “On the Lighter Side” for any length of time, you’ll know my family and Jim’s are extremely important to us.

When it was just the two of us, it was enough to see them on holidays and the occasional family gathering. After Evangeline was born, it got harder to say good-bye after visits. And after Brielle’s birth this May, we found ourselves spending every weekend this summer down south.

With our move, we’ll complete a set: All of my grandmother’s grandchildren and great-grandchildren will be living in Lincoln. My mother will be a 45-minute drive down I-80 and Jim’s parents live just an hour’s drive south in Kansas.

Though my girls don’t know it yet, it’s a tremendous gift we’re giving them to grow up with grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins nearby.

But that gift doesn’t come without a price, which of course is that we’ll be leaving the friends who have become like family over the past four years.

So, as a parting gift to my readers, I’d like to close out my time here with a two-part love letter to Cuming County, and especially Wisner, the place where our family began.

Dear Cuming County:

We moved here in July 2008. It was an oppressively hot day when we pulled up outside of the little house that would become our home. I’d never set foot in it before; Jim had arranged for it while I was still working in Oklahoma.

But I loved it right away, just like it didn’t take me long to fall in love with you.

Within a month, I was working at the Wisner News-Chronicle. If there is a better way to learn about a new community than working at its newspaper, I’d like to hear it. It was through my work at the paper that I learned who is related to who, who used to live where, who graduated in what year and with whom.

It didn’t take long to recognize people, and so consequently, I knew a lot more of your people than maybe they realized. It sometimes made me feel a little stalkerish, but also it made me feel at home to see familiar faces.

I love shopping at stores where you know the majority of the other shoppers. I love being on a first-name basis with local librarians. I love bowling with women who don’t hold my 97-pin average against me.

Where else could I have found not one, but two, excellent childcare providers for my children? Where else could I have joined in organizations dedicated to promoting the arts in rural Nebraska, even as an outsider — and a young one, at that? Where else could I have written a self-involved weekly newspaper column without recrimination?

There’s nowhere quite like Cuming County, and nowhere quite like Wisner. We won’t forget you.

Until next week,
Violet

On the Lighter Side

Published Aug. 8, 2012

Here we go again

We've moving.

There, that's the short version of things. If that's all you want to know, you can stop reading right about ... now.

But if you, dear reader, want the whole story (the long, involved, tear-soaked version), sally forth.
I've chronicled our journey for the past few months here and here and here (and even here, almost a year ago).

To catch you up, Jim resigned from teaching at Zion St. John in April, primarily due to the fact that he wanted to focus on being a teacher, not an administrator/teacher/nurse/coach/driver/janitor. By the time the school year ended in May, he had several interviews with local schools under his belt. We expected one of those would work out, especially since one was at another Lutheran school. 

Long (loooong) story short, neither position materialized. (A side note: When politics enter into hiring decisions in a public school, you kind of expect and accept it. When it happens in a Christian setting, it's deeply disappointing.) 

May came and went. Brielle was born. Then June passed into July with no job offers, just waiting and waiting and waiting. I confess, our home was not precisely a haven this summer. I struggled a lot with anger, with depression, mostly especially with trust. 

Security and stability are as necessary to me as oxygen, so for the past four months, I suffocated in a miasma of fear and indecision. If you think I'm exaggerating, you might try talking to my poor husband, who dealt with the unfortunate combination of postpartum hormones, sleep deprivation and situationally-induced anxiety. 

Last week, a few things transpired that drastically changed our plans. While I need to keep private things private, suffice it to say that it became abundantly clear a path was opening up to enable us to embark on a new adventure. 

As Jim and I discussed things on Wednesday night, a much-need rainstorm was sweeping through the area. Literally the moment I said Let's do it, a gust of wind blew the upstairs window open. A door had closed to us, but a window *literally* was opening. 

Looking back on the events of this spring and summer, I can see now how God's hand was guiding us. Initially, I was dead-set against moving: I had an idea of how things should happen. But as those plans evaporated, even though the circumstances were less than ideal, I started to think about how nice it would be to be closer to our families. 

Gradually, my slow little brain worked its way around to realizing that maybe this is what God intended for us all along.

It's not going to be painless. I dearly love the friends we've made over the past four years. I will be leaving a job that I'm good at and that I enjoy. We'll be leaving our group of theatre friends, and I'll genuinely miss being onstage and helping make decisions for its future.

But. It is a good change. My girls will grow up with their family, instead of seeing them occasionally and briefly.

We'll be living in a house on my grandmother's farm, so we'll see her every day. My sisters both work in Lincoln, so we plan to have Big Bang Theory nights at their apartment this fall. My brother will be a freshman at UNL this fall, so we'll be able to meet up with him for coffee once in a while. My mom and Jim's parents will both be just an hour away, so all three of them will get to do more hands-on grandparenting.

As for jobs, I'm not worried ... can you believe that? Me, not worrying? Jim is planning to substitute teach. I have a few feelers out there for myself, but if it's a slower process, I'll get to stay home with the girls. Win-win.

Our Wisner chapter is coming to an end; it's been such a special time in our lives. Just like a favorite book, I know I'll revisit our Cuming County days in my memory often.

To all the people who prayed unceasingly for us over the past months, it is appreciated more than you can ever know. God is good, and His plans are perfect ... even when we can't see how they possibly can be.

Four generations

The women in this photo, my mom and grandma, are women of faith, gracious hostesses,  thoughtful friends, loving wives and devoted mothers. If there is anything good I pass along to my girls, it will be because I learned it from them. 

In pursuit of a gold(en) childhood

Here’s a fun fact: Sports movies make me cry. Every single one, every single time. I’m not talking rivers of tears, but I get choked up when the U.S. hockey team scores the winning goal in Miracle or when Rudy gets called to the field at the last minute. 

Don’t even get me started on Chariots of Fire.

So it shouldn’t be surprising for you to learn that I limit my Olympics viewing — for fear that every tissue in Cuming County quickly would be put to use. (That, plus the fact we don’t have conventional television in the Kirk house.)

But I did catch some of the events over the weekend at my grandmother’s house, and even my unathletic soul was stirred.

As a child, I remember watching figure skating during the winter Olympics, thinking “Hey, I could do that,” putting on a twirly skirt and practicing “triple axles” in the hallway.

Shockingly, the Olympic Talent Team never called.

Watching the competition now as a mother, I’m tempted to think the same thing, but with my children in the spotlight.

Every parent believes his or her child is exceptional; what a rush it must be to have that acknowledged globally.

And every parent, myself included, believes his or her child has what it takes to go for gold.

But then I think of the sacrifices Olympians and their families make, and wonder if gold medals come at an impossibly high price.

I want my girls to be little girls for as long as possible. There will be non-negotiables down the road — chores, homework, piano lessons, fetching Mommy her emergency chocolate — but I want them to pursue the gold medals of their own choosing. And that’s only after they’ve had the chance to have a thoroughly carefree childhood.

I probably won’t be an Olympic mom someday, though secretly I won’t rule out the possibility.

But whether I’m cheering for my girls in the bleachers at a basketball game or quietly beaming with pride at a dance recital, I want to know they’re doing what they love.

And you can bet I’ll bring tissues.

Brielle can't exactly play yet, so she fills her time by looking adorable. Mission accomplished, no?

Meanwhile, big sister Evangeline can't get enough of the life aquatic. (Jill - I think she looks so much like D. in this photo!)

On the Lighter Side
Published August 1, 2012

Celebrating the ‘town too tough to die’

I’m the lucky one in the office: I get to cover all the water events at Pilger’s Q125 celebration this weekend.

So even though the heat will be scorching, I’ll be keeping cool near the kids’ water fights and duck races at the Pilger pool.

If you’re less inclined to get wet, there are lots of other activities on offer this weekend. A full list of events can be found on the Pilger page of this week’s News-Chronicle, or you can go to www.pilgerq125.com.

Pilger’s motto is “the town too tough to die,” and while it’s an apt description of the village today, it’s also a tribute to the pioneer spirit needed 125 years ago when it was established.

Over the past few months, I worked a weekly feature for the Q125 that detailed Pilger’s history. The accounts that resonated most with me were those of Pilger’s founding fathers and mothers, often told by their children.

Life wasn’t easy 125 years ago. Settlers new to Stanton County built rudimentary shelters and learned how to navigate life in a lonely prairie. Neighbors were few and far between, and medical assistance even sparser. One long-time Pilger resident told about when one of his siblings was bitten by a snake. Driving in an ambulance to a hospital emergency room was a reality that existed decades in the future, so the family relied on the expertise of a Native American who knew how to extract the venom and treat the wound.

Another local historian remembered how her mother got tired of walking over a mile to get water from the stream, so she got out the shovel and dug a well closer to the homestead. Considering this hardy woman probably had a houseful of children to feed, clothe and protect, it’s difficult to imagine summoning the energy to do it.

That’s why Pilger — and all other small, rural towns — have celebrations like the one this weekend, to commemorate the sacrifices of their founders and to remember the toughness it took to survive in the early days.

But it takes toughness to continue the existence of a town, and that’s also what Pilger will celebrate.

It’s tempting for outsiders to look at small towns and dismiss them as insignificant simply because their numbers are few. That’s a mistake, because so much pride beats in the hearts of those who love their communities. It’s evidenced by the amount of work and planning that goes into creating a Q125 event; I know the committee has been at work for at least a year.

And it’s not just during celebrations that you can see that early pioneer spirit at work. During village board meetings and Sunday church services, at adult swim at the pool and at the annual sweet corn feed, the residents of Pilger are actively supporting their community and keeping it going.

I’m from a Nebraska town so small, it makes Pilger look like a metropolis, so I know a thing or two about hometown pride.

Pilger isn’t my hometown, but I’ll help celebrate this weekend like it is.

I invite you to join me in the town too tough to die — happy birthday, Pilger.

On the Lighter Side

Published July 18, 2012

Thrifty Thursday - Mega Post

One of the things I love about second-hand shopping is that it can be a partially self-sustaining hobby. How, you may ask? Here's how I feed my habit: Consignment.

In my small rural corner of Nebraska, there are two excellent consignment stores I regularly frequent. I have accounts at both, and when I do a closet purge, I take in what has resale value. The split is something like 30% to me and 70% to the store. 

Granted, I never actually "make" money, but this way new-to-me clothes don't break the budget.

Here are some of our (Jim is developing his own thrifty sense!) recent finds:

This handbag is stamped "Kate Spade," but I have my doubts as to its authenticity. Regardless of if it's "real" or not, I love the color and sleek profile of it.

I'd been looking for some heeled sandals and these caught my eye. They are extremely comfortable, so I looked up the brand - BeautiFeel. It turns out similar shoes retail for $150-200 — and I got these for $7! 

I couldn't resist the feel of this scarf, and the colors are so pretty.

Pattern mixing is a thing now, I guess, and while I think the trend makes people look like a toddler dressed them, this isn't so bad. Would I go out in public like this? Likely not, but the skirt and shirt separately have lots of potential.

Now this is more my daily style: Boot-cut jeans (like new, Eddie Bauer - my favorite brand!), low-maintenance top and a toddler on my hip.

This necklace is NOT toddler-safe, but I'll be able to wear it at work without tiny fingers trying to grab it.

 

I saw these bright red cowboy boots and immediately put them in the cart. I don't think they've ever been worn and Evangeline LOVES them! I hope they still fit during football season - go Huskers!

Jim found a pair of nearly-new cargo shorts, and I picked up some books to keep me awake during 3 a.m. feedings.

Everything pictured here - two tops, a skirt, one pair of shorts, one pair of jeans, a pashmina, a pair of sandals, a pair of cowboy boots, two books, a handbag and a necklace - cost under $50. Considering my sandals alone originally cost at least twice that, I can live with that.

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Do you thrift, yard sale or consign? I'd love to hear about your favorite finds - leave a comment!