Two weekends ago, Jesse and I went on a thrift store adventure.

Proving, yet again, that we are really in our 70s. (We also love public television and Jeopardy! and we’re usually in bed pretty early. In case you needed extra evidence.)

But it doesn’t matter if we’re a little dorky, because we’re both a little dorky, and we like it that way.

So, our little adventure. We started the Saturday with breakfast at Chick-Fil-A (we had a coupon) and then drove up to Hampstead, visiting as many thrift stores and Goodwills as we could. We bought old books and random cables. And we saw lots of weird things–which was half the fun.

We found relics from our childhood, which made us feel old. Anybody read The Babysitters Club and Sweet Valley Twins? Oh, memories…

We also found some pretty cute places. A little bakery. An store that sold funky antique furniture. A shop with large metal flamingos outside. There’s a running joke in my family about pink flamingos. When my parents first got their place in West Virginia, Dad teased Mom that he was going to put a pink flamingo in the yard–bring a little Florida with him to the Mountain State, as it were. (Of course, my mother was mortified at the prospect.) Then, my sister found one and put it in the window of their place so that when they showed up, it was there waiting for them.

We’ve been buying Mom pink flamingos ever since. (Ornaments. Plastic yard decorations. Magnets.) I thought the ones we found at the shop were probably a little too big to be funny, so I took a picture with one instead.

Around lunchtime, we headed back into town and made our way to the beach, where we had another coupon (sensing a trend?) for a hotdog shop. We split a chili slaw dog and a “hurricane” (ice cream) which promptly melted. The weather was perfect. Sunny, warm, breezy. We walked the beach, getting our feet wet, watching the waves.

We had a lovely day. A lovely, goofy day. Just like we like it.

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