It's still just as cold, but the schools re-opened (thank God). I spent a blissful morning with a friend of mine browsing at the local thrift store. First, I look at all the god-awful bric-a-brac. And then I start some serious scrounging. I first started shopping there with a group of young women from my childbirth class whose husbands were post-docs at Princeton. We would go out in search of cheap baby clothes, usable strollers, etc. They've all moved away into the academic netherworld, sad to say, but my friend and I keep the faith. It's also where I brought the orphaned nativity angels in the picture.

There's loads of great stuff in the store. This is a relatively affluent part of New Jersey, so there are clothes in perfect condition that look like they were worn once or twice and then heedlessly discarded. I used to buy all my daughter's clothes used, at either the thrift store or yard sales, but those days are long over. I got her (what I thought was) a great pair of jeans last month. They were Gap jeans, they were "flares," but according to her, the color was "wrong." "Mom," she said, "I forbid you, YOU ARE FORBIDDEN to buy me jeans when I'm not there!" So I donated the jeans back to the thrift store from whence they came.

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