A Cute Jacket

"With its broad collar and princess seams, this nipped-in number fakes a tinier torso.

A belt and buttons the same shade as the jacket don't disrupt the chic sleekness."

-- goodhousekeeping.com, 

"Look 10 Pounds Thinner -- Instantly" 

Horses in cute jackets 9-19-14

"Yeah, I saw Jerry wearing his.

He looked like a bit of a dandy."

-- "David Puddy," Seinfeld, "8 Ball Coat"

I swung by the thrift store yesterday just to cruise through and see if I could find any hidden gems.

I did.

I got a super-cute, tailored, zippered denim jacket with big wide lapels and really cool button-y thingies on the sleeves and pockets for just $4.99.

Everyone knows the right jacket is a good foundation piece that can totally pull together any number of fall looks.

Add the perfect accessories, and, well, the possibilities are endless.

Good fashion advice. Straight from the horse's mouth.

Am I right, or am I right?

Being The Third Wheel

"Man, I know how you feel -- third wheel.

I have been the third wheel so many times in my life ...

my mom told me something once that made me feel a lot better.

she said the third wheel is what makes it a tricycle."

-- "Michael Scott," The Office

Three wheeler 7-10-14

Yesterday Leo invited me to go on a trip to the thrift store with him and his girlfriend, Mackenna.

I thought maybe he just wanted me to go along so I could pay. So I gave him 20 bucks and said they could go alone. He gave the money back and said no, they actually wanted me to come.

I asked if he was sure.

I didn't want to horn in on their time together.

I didn't want to be that weird mom who inserts herself where she isn't wanted.

I didn't want to be that awkward third wheel.

But he insisted, saying "We want you to come. Mackenna likes you."

Awww!

So I went.

I rode in the back seat of Leo's car and listened to their adorable, entertaining banter.

Mackenna and I helped Leo pick out a couple of pretty cool shirts.

Then I left the two of them alone and cruised around the music section while Leo waited for Mackenna try on dresses. She found a pretty great little sweater dress, and I found a used Indigo Girls "Shaming of the Sun" CD.

Being the third wheel is typically a bad thing. Shadowing along behind two people who are all gaga in love with each other and who don't even notice whether or not you're there isn't all that fun.

But our little threesome to the thrift store wasn't about all that. It was simply about three people who enjoy something in common, doing that thing together.

Leo and Mackenna enjoy the treasure hunt atmosphere of searching for vintage-y treasures buried in the clothing racks.

So do I.

They enjoy getting really great stuff for practically pennies.

So do I.

They both like straying from the high school herd and wearing unique clothes that aren't emblazoned with the same "guess where I buy my socially acceptable clothes" logos.

So do I.

We all like the thrift store because you never know what abandoned little gems might be quietly waiting on a dusty shelf for you to notice them and maybe take them home -- like the warm fuzzy feeling that your kid isn't embarrassed by you, and that he likes you enough to take you out in public with his girlfriend and actually share his life with you.

I paid for our finds -- they didn't cost much.

But that last little treasure -- that one didn't cost me anything at all. Just a little bit of time.

It didn't go into the bag with the other stuff.

I carried that one home in my heart.

A Lucky Find

"I like the sound a typewriter makes."

-- Paul Auster

Typewriter keys 2-15-14

"There on the landing sits the typewriter. It is clogged with dust, the ribbon dried and flimsy ... He realises he can replicate in his head the exact sound it used to make. The clac-clac-a-clac of the metal letters hitting the paper, the ribbon raising itself each time to make the impression. The machine-gun fire of it ... The ding every time the carriage reached its limit. The whirr as the page was snatched out, then the rolling ratcheting as a new one was wound in."

-- Maggie O'Farrell, 

The Hand That First Held Mine

Whenever I go to buy art supplies, I usually walk a couple of doors down and take a spin through the thrift store. It's like a treasure hunt, and I've made some pretty good finds there. I'm a particular sucker for Barbies, action figures, good leather belts and old cameras. But yesterday, still empty-handed after my swing through housewares, I made a really good find. 

Well, Leo made it.

He spied a lovely, compact little electric Smith-Corona "Coronet Electric 12" typewriter on a shelf strewn with cast-off lamps and electric juicers and a bunch of light-up Exit signs (still in their boxes). The sticker on the typewriter said $1.79. 

Leo: (excitedly) Let's get it.

Me:  (cynically) Let's see if it even works, first.

It was adorably retro, from the '70s, dove gray and baby blue. It was a little dirty, but it had a ribbon in it. There was an outlet right behind it, so we plugged it in and switched it on. Leo rolled a wrinkled receipt into the carriage and waddaya know? It worked. And pretty darn well. The ribbon still had plenty of ink and the keys all worked. Leo announced "We're takin' it," unplugged it, tucked it under his arm and we headed for the checkout.

With tax it came to a grand total of $1.92. 

I love typewriters. I miss them. I miss the sound of them. And even though this one plugs in, it's older. It isn't fancy or sophisticated. It sounds and works very much like a manual machine.

Several years ago an elderly friend gave me her husband's old manual Smith-Corona, a vintage one from 1939, which he used in graduate school. It was still in its case, pristine and perfect. I was beyond thrilled to get it, even though I had to scour the Internet to find ribbons that fit it. 

I type letters on it, mostly, when e-mail isn't personal or private enough. If you receive a typed letter from me, it probably means that I like you a great deal.

Leo was still pretty little when I got it. His bedroom is right next to my workroom, and there were nights when I was typing noisily away while he was down the hall in his bed. 

Me: Am I keeping you awake, Buddy? I can quit if it's bugging you.

Leo: No. Don't stop. I like it.

Sound is a powerful emotional trigger. A specific sound can evoke memories that transport you instantly to another time and place. There are sounds that annoy and irritate, sounds that frighten. And there are sounds that soothe and comfort, sounds that elicit pleasure. 

For me, like for Leo, the sound of a typewriter is a good thing. 

Until she retired, my mom was a professional secretary, trained at the renowned Katharine Gibbs College in Boston. She could type like a fiend, and perfectly. My dad typed on a giant, heavy, Royal manual, a leftover from the high school typing classroom when they switched over to IBM Selectrics. He was a big guy and he banged and smashed the keys, shaking the whole dinner table which he used as a desk, cursing when he goofed, glopping on blobs of Liquid Paper to cover his mistakes. 

Since we brought it home, our new typewriter has been plugged in on the kitchen island. Leo can't leave it alone. He typed a letter to his brother and keeps messing around with it, typing nonsense just to type. 

He types exactly like my dad, noisily and with just his index fingers. He has the cursing down pretty well, too.

Computers and keyboards and "touch pads" are silencing the typewriter's voice, and there will, sadly, come a day when children won't even know what a typewriter was, much less how one sounded.

Not on my watch.

For whoever dumped off my new typewriter, it had most likely become a useless and obsolete relic that was just taking up space. I looked it up online and they're selling for about $95. For me it's worth even more.

I'm glad someone at least cared enough to bring it to the thrift store -- which is kind of the retail equivalent of the dog pound -- so that Leo and I could adopt it, rescue it.

Whoever you are, you did a good thing.