‘I’m gonna pop some tags…’
I just got home from driving the exact kind of carpool I don’t like because it is proof positive that I am indeed a Soccer Mom. After kicking four soccer players to the curb at Robinswood, I decided to run some errands. Crossing Bellevue four times during rush hour is unappealing. So Sistafoo and I went to Crossroads Mall. After doing a return at Old Navy, we drove a mile or so west for a quick browse at Goodwill.
Growing up with four brothers and sisters and a super-shopper mom, I learned how not to be a shopping snob. I will stop at your Garage Sale and if you post something awesome on Craigslist, chances are I will see it and possibly even buy it.
Luckily, my kids share my tolerance for shopping variety. Sweetie-Boy revels in treasure-hunting and is a big fan of Pawn Stars and American Pickers. Venom Pen loves broken electronics and gadgets. And although Sistafoo has reservations about touching old stuff, her nearly obsessive hand purifying routine means that she can almost always find a ridiculous secondhand something to love.
Tonight’s speed shop yielded a teak ice bucket that I don’t need, but it’s cool.
When I arrived to retrieve my gang of kickers, there was a parking-lot clogging tussle over who would ride in the front seat. I told the wily winner that it was his job to cradle and protect my find. He looked it over appreciatively and then asked: “What is it?” I told him it’s an ice bucket. He twisted the bucket in his hands. “$5.99? That’s a good price!”
Before I could launch a lesson on entertaining and Mad Men style trends, the radio DJ announced my new anthem, the song “Thrift Shop” by Macklemore & Ryan Lewis. Note: if you have delicate ears or eyes, skip the video and just imagine men in fur coats and footed pj’s rapping to a lively tune.
By the time the song ended we were on Bellevue Way, and as we chatted about the wonders and joys of thrift shopping we were getting dangerously close to 7-11. The inevitable queries began;
“Please?!? Please can we get a Slurpee mom?” “Please Mrs. Nunn?”
It’s always hard to resist the allure of buying my way into the cool mom club, so I said yes, with one catch. I promised a full-sized Slurpee after the next practice if they do just one little thing for me: Memorize and competently perform the entire “Thrift Shop” rap (clean version) for my amusement.
They have 48 hours to get it done. No matter how they do I am certain I got another great deal. Because while Slurpees are cheap, teenagers who will rap for Slurpees, are priceless.
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