When I Am Old, I Shall Wear Vintage

This reminds me of my plaid jumper.
This painting available for purchase
from Studio Beerhorst.

I remember the last time I wore it. At church, waiting to be seated by the usher, it struck me, "I'm too old to be wearing this." Despite having switched out the Peter-Pan-collared blouse for a simple white turtleneck a few years prior, the jumper my mom wore in junior high--how's that for a hand-me-down?--just looked a little too juvenile for a woman nearing the 30-year mark. Even with its fitted bodice and quality wool fabric, it still suggested a Catholic schoolgirl uniform.

Upon graduating high school and entering the fine arts milieu, I threw off the shroud of jeans and sweatshirt ubiquity, no longer having to guard against the deprecating looks of my peers. In music school, talent garnered respect, and, as my teacher stated, "When God handed out talent, he gave you an extra helping." So I went bold, though it was conservative bold. And that meant vintage dresses.

Nearing a decade post-college, as I waited to be seated that Sunday morning, I felt self-conscious in my tartan jumper. Within the week, I returned it to my mom; it hangs in her spare closet still. Today, while I only faintly genuflect to fashion (I still won't wear opposing plaids), neither am I notable in any way. This doesn't keep me from browsing the lovely vintage dresses on Etsy and "favoriting" an especially fine specimen. To be young again, to be a student again, to dare to wear vintage dresses again!

Last week as I sat in church, I couldn't help noticing the elderly woman in an adjacent pew, sporting a tartan plaid Pendleton two-piece outfit, a throwback to a decade when things were simpler. Then I knew: When I am old, I shall wear vintage. Only then, the clothes will have aged with me.

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Embarrassed to Be Me

When I first meet someone, I make an attempt to pass for normal. But, when I'm introduced by a friend, I realize it's already too late when I hear the inevitable, "So you're the one who ________ " (fill in the blank with something unusually thrifty, or some curiosity I've sold online). I feel relieved if it's only mildly embarrassing. 

Last week I volunteered at New2You, the thrift store that supports my son's school. Introducing myself to Kris, a fellow volunteer, she began, "I remember hearing about you"--Oh, no, I thought, wondering what strange tidbit she'd present--"from someone, but I don't know who, and I don't remember what." Could it be from the other Laura, about the distressed feminist T-shirt I rescued from the thrift store trash bin last time I volunteered, or could it be from Pam, about the lip balm tin, or..., The possibilities raced through my mind, but I successfully kept my mouth shut, reveling in a rare moment of being almost memorable, but not quite.

Perhaps it's because I was a misfit as a child, never quite so strange to be taunted openly, but unusual enough that the other kids would sacrifice their social standing by getting too chummy with me. My only truly loyal friend through middle school was a boy who sucked the spit from his braces at regular intervals. We'd play chess during lunch break. I think of him occasionally, considering if he ever outgrew his gawkiness. Part of me hopes not; the awkwardness was part of his charm.

I'd never want to relive middle school; I'm not sure anyone would. Perhaps if I had attempted to act more normal, I would've been accepted by my peers. But then I think of some of the most fun I've ever had. It was when I was being myself, with my friends.

And the most fun I've ever had volunteering at the thrift store? Definitely the time I rescued the T-shirt. Whenever I see Lora, she asks me if I've sold it. I trust I will, eventually, and I can't wait to forward the "Etsy Order Confirmation" email to her. We'll both be laughing. I'll probably even give a snort or two, even if it is embarrassing.

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You Have a Friend in Pennsylvania

Between Michigan and Upstate New York lies Fairview, Pennsylvania. A few months ago, on their way back to Michigan from visiting my brother's family in the Albany area, my mom and dad took the Fairview exit. We had visited my old high school boyfriend there on Avonia Road on several occasions, what seems like a lifetime ago. My mom wondered, after 20 years, if she'd still be able to find the house where he had lived.

Indeed she was, and his former home was serendipitously near a rather large yard sale. She bought several items for my Etsy shop, but some of the most interesting stuff was in the trash pile. Some things are just interesting, regardless of value.

Many sellers on Etsy offer what is called a Pay It Forward listing. The idea of a "PIF" listing is just to recover selling costs, offering something just to be nice, or just for the fun of it. The person purchasing a PIF listing should, in turn, do something nice for someone else.

Last week I finally sorted the box of Catholic statues and paper ephemera that my parents found in the trash at the Avonia Road, Fairview, Pennsylvania yard sale. Grouping the statues, I found some interesting, some kitschy, but the armless Mary just plain sad. I couldn't bring myself to throw her, and trusted, with all the crafty people on Etsy, someone would give her a second chance.

What a second chance she received! I really enjoy earning a living by selling online, but I do so love finding homes for things the average person wouldn't think twice about throwing away. This forlorn little statue gave more satisfaction than usual. The buyer, Donna Maria, lost no time fixing her and restoring a babe in arms, leaving postive feedback for the transaction, joining my Facebook page, blogging about it, and sending me photos. I'd say she has already paid it forward. She gave me a smile. And she might yet infuse hope in some hapless soul sunk low, that there's a loving Creator, waiting to fix you up and make you new again, in a form more glorious than before.

And all because, over 20 years ago, I had a friend in Pennsylvania.



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The Outed Tightwad

The local Quality Inn has a great apple tree for my apple crisp.

I've come out of the closet--the tightwad closet. I'm not afraid to tell those who visit my home that they've set their cup of coffee on an end table from a school Dumpster, refinished by hubby, or that the apple crisp I'm serving came from the fruit of the local Quality Inn apple tree. While some look askance when I share a tightwad tidbit, polite people feign interest.
 
But then there are the times when the angels sing, and a friendship is born over mutual frugality. My sister went to dinner at the home of a couple from their church--a couple they did not know well. Conversation was a bit stilted until my sister noticed the 10-10- long distance discount access code sticker on their phone and thought to mention Freeway, a now-defunct service that allowed two minutes of free long-distance for each short advertisement you'd listen to before making a call. The rest of the evening went more quickly, with an exchange of tightwad tips, and discussion of saving money for impending adoptions both families were planning.

Our local museum is free on Mondays.

Even if you don't score a lifelong friend, when you're not afraid to mention something frugal, people will know you're interested, and they'll tell you if a new thrift store opened up near them, if a relative shops at a food salvage store--perhaps even one you didn't yet know about, a neighbor has a beautiful easy chair in the trash, or that the public museum is free on Mondays. Regardless of the exact information, it does flow when people know you want to save money. Voilà! You're a magnet for money-saving knowledge.

The Grand Rapids Press featured me on the front page of the Food section.

A couple of years ago, The Grand Rapids Press wrote a profile in the food section about the money-saving ways I feed my family. My husband, not seeing any benefit to the intrusion, stayed on the sidelines during the interview. There was a benefit, however: friends. Like-minded people I knew only by face introduced themselves, and it progressed from there. Now I have a fruit foraging buddy, which is so much more fun than doing it solo.

In a society where self-worth can be wrapped up in status, sometimes it feels just a little uncomfortable to let people know that I Dumpster-dive or that my favorite sweater, rather than being from Macy's, is indeed from a garage sale. But the reward comes when the little tidbit I dare to share develops into a friendship so tight that I'll even admit to reusing my dental floss. Now that kind of friendship is a real friendship.

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Real Food Waffles

I like to cook real food, not just junk posing as breakfast. Here's a waffle recipe I enjoy. First I'll put the basic recipe, then the way I alter it (seeing as how I find it impossible to follow a recipe). These are not at all like a frozen waffle. If your kids have been trained to accept only junk food waffles, they might turn their noses up at these. Bonus tip: If you have a baby, raise them up on good homemade food. Your life will be so much less expensive later. I usually make them in a vintage Vitantonio Belgian waffle iron, but Sunbeam made a great waffle iron, too.

"Real Food Waffles" made with a vintage Vitantonio Belgian waffle maker.

Real Food Waffles

Dry ingredients:

1 1/2 c quick oats
1/2 c white flour
1/2 c wheat flour
1 t salt
1 T baking powder
2 t cinnamon

Wet ingredients:

1 1/2 c milk
1 egg, beaten
1 T honey or molasses
2 T oil

Mix and cook. The recipe also works for pancakes.

Here are some substitutions to make it either cheaper, more healthful, or more convenient:

Extra zucchini to use up? No problem!

*Switch out the flours for all whole wheat or all white.
*Switch out honey or molasses for sugar or brown sugar (allowing for a more complete premade mix).
*Rolled oats put in a food processor for a short time instead of quick oats.
*Powdered milk instead of regular milk (allowing for a more complete premade mix), or water instead of milk.
*1/4 c ground flax seeds instead of an egg (allowing for a more complete premade mix).
*Shredded zucchini, applesauce, or pumpkin puree, etc instead of oil.

*You can also use up leftover liquid from canned fruit and skip the sweetener.

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