Shala and the wonderful, magical, no bad, very good day
Love.. true love.
Today was an Anchorage day. Things that you can only do in Anchorage I mean.
We have a locally owned thrift store named Bishop's Attic. When I say other thrift stores are one of my favorites, what I'm really saying is "They aren't Bishop's Attic. They rock and I find great things there, but they aren't Bishop's Attic."
I don't get there nearly often enough, in fact, so rarely since we moved to this side of town that The Turnip had no idea what Bishop's Attic was. So this weekend we corrected that. There is no good excuse for not going more often, they are within a mile of my dad's place.
It's the definition of thrift store. It's crammed full of odd things and doesn't try to look like a department store. It's unashamed of what it is. There are racks of clothes that are 3/1.00 designated "work clothes" which means clothes that most thrift stores would sell for scrap by the lb but are just worn or stained. Forget designer jeans that are frayed and dirty and cost $198.00, at Bishop's Attic you can get genuine vintage jeans for 34 cents a pair.
Books are inexpensive, furniture can be a bit more than buying it from garage sales, but it's a drop off point for a lot of upper-middle class people so a lot of the furniture is pretty nice.
It's nestled in a bad neighborhood where's it been for as long as I remember. It burned once, but they rebuilt in the same place.
I got my prom dress at Bishop's Attic longer ago than I like to think. It was a very pretty 70s bias cut Grecian style gown which I wore teamed up with tons of jewelry for a unique look that wasn't out of place.
So my daughter and I went and she marveled at all the things crammed in the building. There was an old Army cot I seriously considered buying. Lots of books. I was able to get some great cookbooks and a 1970 Wilton Cake Decorating book that had wedding pictures taped to the inside. I'm scanning those later because the fashion is just so wonderful.
The Turnip found scraps of fabric which made her insanely happy, including a small snippet of a loteria card print for a quart.
Plus many dpns. I bought all of them because even if there are only 2 of one size, I can either team them with the dpns I have or use them as hair sticks, and I got myself 2 skirts. Total spent? It was under 20 dollars until I added the fund raising cookbook that they put out. I thought it would be a nice thing for The Turnip and I to each have a copy of. It was so much fun sharing the experience of Bishop's Attic with my daughter like my mom shared it with me.
Got mail (books!) from Dad's house. Mike stopped to get his new toy from the mail in his office then it hit me I hadn't eaten. After consideration, we decided to go to Peggy's.
Peggy's is a tiny diner across from Merrill Field which is a local small airport for privately own planes. The cups are stained with coffee, it's not someplace to bring someone you're trying to impress who needs shiny and new. It's been there forever and the menu is a heart attack waiting to happen. But what Peggy's does, other than be the first stop for a lot of pilots, is pies. Pies with flaky delicate crusts, in a lot of flavors. Fruit pies with icecream, cream pies that are like silk dissolving. They also do a decent country gravy. Not as good as homemade but a step above anyplace else in town.
I feel decadent and spoiled, and so in love with my husband for appreciating these sorts of things as much as I do.
Today was an Anchorage day. Things that you can only do in Anchorage I mean.
We have a locally owned thrift store named Bishop's Attic. When I say other thrift stores are one of my favorites, what I'm really saying is "They aren't Bishop's Attic. They rock and I find great things there, but they aren't Bishop's Attic."
I don't get there nearly often enough, in fact, so rarely since we moved to this side of town that The Turnip had no idea what Bishop's Attic was. So this weekend we corrected that. There is no good excuse for not going more often, they are within a mile of my dad's place.
It's the definition of thrift store. It's crammed full of odd things and doesn't try to look like a department store. It's unashamed of what it is. There are racks of clothes that are 3/1.00 designated "work clothes" which means clothes that most thrift stores would sell for scrap by the lb but are just worn or stained. Forget designer jeans that are frayed and dirty and cost $198.00, at Bishop's Attic you can get genuine vintage jeans for 34 cents a pair.
Books are inexpensive, furniture can be a bit more than buying it from garage sales, but it's a drop off point for a lot of upper-middle class people so a lot of the furniture is pretty nice.
It's nestled in a bad neighborhood where's it been for as long as I remember. It burned once, but they rebuilt in the same place.
I got my prom dress at Bishop's Attic longer ago than I like to think. It was a very pretty 70s bias cut Grecian style gown which I wore teamed up with tons of jewelry for a unique look that wasn't out of place.
So my daughter and I went and she marveled at all the things crammed in the building. There was an old Army cot I seriously considered buying. Lots of books. I was able to get some great cookbooks and a 1970 Wilton Cake Decorating book that had wedding pictures taped to the inside. I'm scanning those later because the fashion is just so wonderful.
The Turnip found scraps of fabric which made her insanely happy, including a small snippet of a loteria card print for a quart.
Plus many dpns. I bought all of them because even if there are only 2 of one size, I can either team them with the dpns I have or use them as hair sticks, and I got myself 2 skirts. Total spent? It was under 20 dollars until I added the fund raising cookbook that they put out. I thought it would be a nice thing for The Turnip and I to each have a copy of. It was so much fun sharing the experience of Bishop's Attic with my daughter like my mom shared it with me.
Got mail (books!) from Dad's house. Mike stopped to get his new toy from the mail in his office then it hit me I hadn't eaten. After consideration, we decided to go to Peggy's.
Peggy's is a tiny diner across from Merrill Field which is a local small airport for privately own planes. The cups are stained with coffee, it's not someplace to bring someone you're trying to impress who needs shiny and new. It's been there forever and the menu is a heart attack waiting to happen. But what Peggy's does, other than be the first stop for a lot of pilots, is pies. Pies with flaky delicate crusts, in a lot of flavors. Fruit pies with icecream, cream pies that are like silk dissolving. They also do a decent country gravy. Not as good as homemade but a step above anyplace else in town.
I feel decadent and spoiled, and so in love with my husband for appreciating these sorts of things as much as I do.