Author: Kathleen Fisher

Kathleen Fisher is a Chicago girl at heart though she moved from there many years ago when a handsome scientist swept her off her feet. What started as a light-hearted blog about life, marriage, and kids turned more serious in September of 2018 when her husband of 35 years ended his life. A new journey began that day and she now writes about unexpected loss, grief, and finding a path towards healing.

Thrifter’s Row

I decided to hit some new thrift stores to find the goods to fill our space for the next sale.  The neighborhood can be a little sketch.  Like if you pulled up, you’d probably think, “Let’s just skip this one.”  I cannot skip, for there could be a hidden treasure hiding amongst the 21 Kids and Counting wardrobe.  My only rule of thumb is that should I see a rodent or any sign of a rodent, I hightail it out of there.

I went to City Thrift which supports the City Union Mission here in Kansas City.  It is pretty new, pretty cool, and they know what something is worth.  Which sucks for people like me who want it dirt cheap.  Anyhow, I came across an old electric typewriter that was an awesome color, but had no price.  I asked the guy running the place how much it was, and our conversation went like this……………

“Well, what are you willing to pay for it?”  $10.00

“$10.00, huh?”  Yes.

“It’s really something.”  I know.

“By the way, my name is William.”  Hi, I’m Kathy.  You know, my dad and son are named William.

“Well, lookie here, we’ve got something in common.”  Yes, we do..

“Now, is $10.00 still what you’re willing to pay for that?  Yes.

“Kathy, you know good and well that I can’t sell you that typewriter for $10.00.  I do, William, but I had to try.

Twenty bucks was his final offer, and since I didn’t know enough about the worth of that kind of typewriter, I had to take a pass.  But, I’ll be back to see William.  There’s something attractive about a guy who doesn’t succumb to the charms of a bargainer.

A Trip To The Mall

I spent part of my Sunday at the mall. Ugh.  I had bought a pair of pants at a store that had a limited selection in my size, so I decided to see if the store at the mall had the color I wanted so I could exchange them.  Success.
When I got to the counter, I told THE SALESGIRL WHO ACTED LIKE SHE WAS HOOKED UP TO A FEEDING TUBE OF RED BULL that I needed to return a pair of pants and exchange a pair of pants.  
“No problem whatsoever,” she said.  
“Do you know that our pants are buy one get one free?”  I do.  
“Our jewelry is buy one get one 50% off.”  That’s nice.  
“Oh, the buy one get one free pants deal does not include the yoga pants.  Did I already say that?”  No.  
“I don’t know if you get our emails, but we’re featuring a coupon through tomorrow.  Did you want to use one?”   Just taking care of my pants.
“No problem whatsoever.  Let me take care of that for you.” 
Oh, these pants aren’t an even exchange so I have to ring them up differently.  It will take an extra minute here.”  And then she returned some jewelry off the ticket instead of the pants.  And she had to call the supervisor to fix the problem.  And she was wearing on my last nerve.
When the transaction was finished, I owed $.20.  “There’s a different tax rate where you bought those which is why you owe twenty cents.”  No problem whatsoever..

“I have some advice for you.  Next time, return the pants to the store where you bought them and then come here to get the size you need and it will save you that twenty cents.”  
WTF is what my face said, and my mouth might have joined in.






Oh Blogger

Setting up this blog for someone who was born-too-long-ago-to-be-all-that-computer-literate was a task.  What would take my kids an hour took me a week, but I put my big girl panties on and figured it out.  I might have cried.  I might have drank a bit in the process.  I might have thought about shooting myself.

Last week, Blogger changed the layout.  The whole thing.  Now trying to find your stats, drafts or comments is completely different and it’s taking me some kind of time to figure it out.  The thing is, it flips back and forth from the new way to the old way all the time.  The screen will pop up with the old layout and I AM SO HAPPY until the next time when the screen is completely different and I AM SO SAD.

It used to be that when I checked my blog on the ipad, and found an error, I could flip it from published to a draft and fix it later.  Until now.  Twice when I’ve done that, it has deleted the entire post.  Poof.  Gone.  It happened last nite, and I went flying up the stairs to check on our regular computer saying, “Please, oh please, oh please don’t be gone.”  Twas.

So I went to bed and tossed and turned in a tizzy trying to decide if I should get up and rewrite it, but I cannot write when I’m pissed off.  That’s for emails.  Anyhow, still awake at  2:00 a.m., I cursed Blogger and wrote this in my head instead.

At least my bitchiness didn’t land in your inbox.

Postscript:  I discovered over the weekend that to get rid of random underling, I need to go to my dashboard, click the side bar widget and make sure there is no text decoration.  Whatever that means.

I also learned that with a click of a button, I could go back to my old set-up regarding stats, comments…..  Mama was right.  When one door closes…………keep beating the shit out of it and you’ll eventually get it open again. 

The Estate Sale

I’ve been going to estate sales for about fifteen years.  At first, I thought it was kind of creepy and weird to go shop the belongings of a deceased person you did not know until a friend said to me, “If you died, wouldn’t you want your stuff to go to somebody who really appreciated it rather than shoved in a bag and put on the curb?”  Yes, I would.

Over those years, I’ve been to some doozies.  I’ve gone into a dirt floor basement that was S.P.O.O.K.Y. and The Teacher Girl would have no part of it.  I’ve been in the home of a woman who loved cats and moth balls and the combined scent nearly knocked you over when you crossed the threshold.

There is no predicting what you will find at an estate sale.  I’ve seen antiques and jewelry for thousands of dollars, and expired boxes of diarrhea medication.  Last year, I found some AWESOME OLD IRON GARDEN CHAIRS for $5.00 each that stopped me in my tracks.  They were on the patio on a freezing cold February day and nobody wanted to go outside.  Except me.  To get those chairs.  Like The Big Daddy going fishing, it’s all about hunting for The One.  And I love to hunt.

Estate sales have become more competitive since Ebay, with shoppers thinking that they’re going to find that dirt cheap antique that’s worth a million and will fund their retirement.  That just doesn’t happen.  The people running these things know exactly what something is worth.  Because of that, I rarely go on the first day.  I detest paying full price for anything, and don’t want to battle some old guy in the garage over a rusty tool box.

This week I went to a sale and sitting by its lonesome on a trunk in the dining room was this, and how in the world could anybody pass up this beauty?

Halfway Through

Tonight when the phone rang, I couldn’t find it amongst the glue gun, sewing machine, vacuum cleaner and drill.  It was a creative kind of day.  By the time I got to it, the answering machine had picked up.  It was The Big Daddy calling to tell me he was going to be late.  He is always late these days with lots on his work plate, and rarely around to do anything dumb that I can write about.  I know.  I miss those stories, too.

Anyhow, we chatted for awhile about our day and he told me he’d be home about 9:00.  In Big Daddy Land that really means 10:30.  Awhile later, I played back all the messages including the five minutes that recorded our conversation.

It confirmed that I’m a whiner and a bore.  That on this dreary, crappy day, the most I had to contribute was a conversation about a pillow I made.

I friggin hate February, but the pillow’s not bad.

You’re Killing Me, Smalls

In the last year, we’ve all had to get accustomed to undersized everything.  Boxes of cereal and crackers that look the same on the outside, but are only half full on the inside.  Bags of chips that are bags of air.  Ice cream cartons that you can polish off in a night.  Big bags of dog food with less in it, coffee in NEW packaging that is nothing but a smaller can.

Though I don’t like any of the above, and the clever manufacturing that is supposed to make us believe we’re getting the same product, what really YANKS MY CHAIN is the size of a roll of toilet paper.  Those things are so puny we’re going through them faster than the Edy’s.  They don’t make small rolls of toilet paper any more because the small is now called a LARGE, and it is anything BUTT.   I couldn’t resist.  I usually buy the mega rolls, which is really a large, but a family size pack of those can run you well over $10.00.  For toilet paper???  Really?

Day by day, grocery run by grocery run, we’re getting taken by The Man.  And who the heck would allow this fancy shmancy business to be done on a roll of toilet paper, thus wasting precious squares?  Not in my crib with new rules regarding excessive use of toilet paper.

Austerity’s a bitch………just ask Greece.

15K

I have always been writing ahead on this blog, so I keep my reserves up.  This weekend was not a writing weekend.  I don’t know what it was except that I’ve had a screaming sinus headache for two days.  They’re remodeling my fave Target store, and even with said headache, I went to look at the uber-cute shoes that were in their ad.  Which I could not find anywhere.  It took me ten minutes just to find the shoe department and after all that, the shoes weren’t there, along with any employees in red to help the “guests.”  Half the stuff on my list I couldn’t find, and that Jason Wu stuff?  Forgetaboutit.  Picked over like crows on a carcass.

So I’ve got nothing to offer.  Not even cute shoes.  Just a date with a bottle of Nyquil.

But………..this weekend I passed the 15,000 mark on hits to A Speckled Trout.  (For a perspective, Pinterest gets 11,000,000 a week.)  Anyhow, somebody’s feeling like a winner, and when that moonshine kicks in, I’m gonna pass out for the night then rise like Jesus on Easter morn, gel my mullet, iron my tie-dye and write with a purpose. 

I quite possibly could have the skills to win a major award. 

It’s Time

There’s been a whole lot of splits in Tinseltown in the last year.  Let’s see, there was……………

Arnold & Marie
JLo & Mark
Heidi & Seal
Demi & Ashton
Eva & Tony
David & Tea
Russell & Katy
David & Courtney
Sean & Robin
Jesse & Sandra
Camille & Kelsey

To name a few.  At some point or another, every one of those spouses has been asked in an interview how they’ve managed to stay happily married, and whatever wisdom they imparted had the potential of being on the cover of People magazine.  As if they can figure it out any more than the rest of us.

In this morning’s paper, there was an obituary for a man named Nathaniel who was described as having a successful antique business, was genuine, sincere, funny, wise, and who transcended social and economic barriers.  He lived by the belief that “everyone’s life journey was a quest for self-improvement.”  He is survived by his mother, brothers, sisters, nieces and nephews.

Also surviving was his partner of 43 years, Donald, and that’s where I found sanctity.