Return of the Op Shop Karma

Lady Di wannabe (aka the Bosnian Orphan, aka Shorty),  and I hit the oppy again last week after a long hiatus. Frankly I haven't been up for it and I felt my opping mojo was perhaps compromised.

Imagine my barely contained excitement when after a brief round of the premises, I spied a WASHING MACHINE box full of vintage fabulousness. In fact it seemed to be from the one nanna source.

 Some had already been sewn into pillowcases with ric rac borders. Another woman was already sorting with trembling fingers. I hoped her two energetic toddlers might melt  down so I could take my turn like a lesser hyena at a kill on the Serengeti.
Op shop etiquette held me back till she looked up with the dilated pupils of a fellow fabric addict and asked me to please take some as she was already out of control and had to put some back. She added, as if to excuse her excitement, "I make bags for the markets."
"At least you don't hoard it in old suitcases like moi-self", I thought silently.

There would be more but for the inexplicable fact that one of Ron and Brian's lovely assistants tottered over and bemoaned the fact that she had to put it all on the shelf and price mark it. So she dragged the huge box of booty away from us with remarkable strength for a seventy + woman. My colleague and I took it as a sign to stop and draw a breath. Besides the toddlers were tired of the cutlery shelf by then. One of hers seemed to be trying to balance a rusty steak knife on his dummy. Another sign.

I have not made a quilt or a patchwork teepee yet as it is still lying in the back of the car under the trombone and euphonium.

Lucky I left the oppy when I did as I found this little group by the cash register. The one on the left is either a dog or a weasel. He is ours and we shall call him Dweazil. The mare-mie and foal are cute but.... 

 ...Bambi trumps horse/ dweazil every time.

There has been more crochet in the endless effort to make a beanie that fits my pin head. Fishy boy got the one on the left and Shorty's got non-bell baubles. She does look a bit like a little teapot with it on but that is, appropriately, one of her favourite songs.

 This small token got painted up in a lairy nail varnish to fulfil a Bitossi yearning. It is the only Bitossi I'll be getting for a while as I am supporting certain doctors' yearnings at the moments rather than my own.

Here it is in situ. The Noahs have left the building.