thrift town, or is that thriftown?

One of the nicest things about moving to our new apartment is a new friend, in the form of an old friend. Allow me to explain: turns out one of my college roommates, SW was living here all along! She married the guy who lurked around our house occasionally (in a very sweet, not scary way at all) and they have an adorably precocious 19 month-old daughter who narrates her day with nouns and gerunds. She lives on the other side of the lake and it's ever so nice to go on adventures. To the bakery! To Trader Joes! To the park!
Today, in a crazy coincidence, neither of us had children (Gabriel at daycare for the full-day trial run -- ohmigod; SPetite playing with a friend who throws things -- ghastly) and what did we do with our crazy freedom? We high tailed it to the suburbs and the 2nd hand mecca, Thrift Town, to get our hands on as much dusty, used clothing as possible in the two hours of precious liberty. It's all so reasonably priced, why not fill up a cart with things I didn't need before glimpsing them amongst the hideous polyester castoffs and too small sequined bustiers (darn). I spent nearly forty dollars. I got books! clothes for school! a onesie that's too small for Gabriel but has the Ramones printed on it! Yay!
Posting this prematurely, as my saved entries have a tendency to languish. Dashing off to lunch with M. Such a social gadfly today. Trying to keep very busy to keep images of Gabriel at baby farm at bay. Luckily, I'm easily distracted. Mmm...sushi.