As those of you who have read my blog in the past know, we have a very good thrift store here on base.

Some of the items are consigned and have stupid, stupid prices attached to them.  For instance, there was an evening gown there today.  Circa 1970, made out of horrible polyester and an equally (if not more so) disgusting pale blue-green color with lace ruffles around the neck, on the bib and sleeves and on the bottom hem, it has sweat stains on the armpits and little pills all down the inside on the sleeves where the polyester had rubbed against itself.  It smelled like.....well, like old people and moth balls.  It was, in other words, completely unfashionable and without merit and had an outrageous price on it - $30.  I think that some little old lady consigned it - it was probably her favorite dress back in the day when she and her husband attended formal events, and she more than likely had an emotional attachment to it - hence the high price. 

On the other side of the store is the donation area.  The items in this area are donated to the thrift store to sell and the profit goes directly to the thrift store and the officer's wive's club fund.  The items are marked at what I call 'yard sale' prices; 50 cents or a quarter or a buck or two - not much, in other words.  Sometimes they'll get a new or nearly new name brand or designer label item and will slap a five or sometimes a ten buck price on it, but it's still far less than what you'd pay retail.

Sometimes, though, they don't know the true value of an item they have and they literally give it away.  Like today.  I found a brand spankin' new pair of Minnetonka hard sole moccasins for ....wait for it......$2.  Two bucks.  When I got home I priced them on the internet and even on sale they're $40 (regularly $50 - $60)

SCORE!!!

Cute, aint they?  I have a pair of red Nike Cortez sneakers, but no other red shoes.  Before today, that is.

There's nothing quite like the thrill of getting a bargain like that.  It's almost like stealing something. Yes, I've stolen something before.  I was a child, and I took some penny candies from the corner store in my village.  I looked behind me the entire walk home, thinking that the lady cashier would figure out I'd stolen the sweets and would be coming after me.  When I got home I took them up to my bedroom and put them in the back of my wardrobe so that mum wouldn't find them and ask me where I got them. When I did get up the courage to get them out, I ate them slowly and with relish, and I thought that they tasted better than any candy I'd bought ever before.

It's almost the same with these shoes, but there's no hiding them or wearing them in secret.  If people ask, I'm going to tell them how little I paid for them.

 I'm proud of the fact that I got them for a steal.