In White Wolf Moon Evan’s study is cluttered with odds and ends mostly acquired at thrift shops. This is yet another trait we have in common.

When Marie called that the tea was steeping Jenn walked back to the large country-style kitchen. “Interesting room at the end of the hall,” she said.

“Evermore, I guess…his refuge. He really values his time alone. That and the darkroom are his favorite places. Ask him to show you around, it’s pretty interesting in there. Cream?”

“Please,” Jenn said as she joined Marie at the counter. “Where did he get all that stuff?”

“Flea markets, yard sales…wherever there are tables with piles of non-descript stuff you’ll find Evan. It’s his addiction. He wandered back from the thrift shop with a doll a while ago. I looked at it and couldn’t believe he’d even paid a buck for it. The face was cracked, her arms were broken and her hair was matted. She was a mess. He spent quite a few evenings fixing her up, painting her and stitching her clothes.” Marie smiled at her young guest. “I think her name is Jenny?”

“And the weirdness just keeps growing,” Jenn mumbled. “Why would he buy a doll? Is it an antique maybe?”

“It’s old but not worth anything. He just felt sorry for her.”


“He was pretty sure that nobody else would buy her in that condition so to save Jenny from the trash he gave her a home.”

“I don’t know whether to laugh or cry.”

The wolf pictured below is like the real-life Jenny.


At first glance was overpriced at $3.00 but, like Evan, I wondered who else but me would actually buy this poor creature. A closer look revealed an acceptable sculpt that deserved a shot at life on my shelf and so I painted my first wolf. After spraying a white base-coat I decided to use the ‘wash’ method…thinned layers of brown and black paints gradually building to where I wanted them. This took longer than I thought it would, thus the delay in this blog posting, but I’m relatively happy with the way it turned out (although I still have some finishing touches left) and it fits nicely with the others on the shelf.

I collect too many things. Aliens, Predators, Matchbox and Hot Wheels cars, records, books…again like Evan, the list goes on and on. I have 2,500 Hot Wheels alone but 450 of them are loose, not in the package. Those 450 were found at yard sales and flea markets but most were from thrift shops.

“Now where?” Jenn asked Evan as the light changed to ‘walk’.

“A thrift shop, just a street up.”

“Is that where you found Jenny?”

“You know about Jenny? No, she was from the hospital shop a few blocks back.”

“Marie told me about her. I gather you buy a lot of stuff at thrift stores.”

“And yard sales, flea markets…that sort of thing. I like finding collectibles…toys mostly, and I love rebuilding old stuff. Most of the smaller furniture pieces in the house are refinished cast-offs.”

“When was the last time you bought anything new?”

He squinted, thinking. “1978.”

“Really? And that was?”


I recently talked with a woman who would NEVER shop at a store like this. “You don’t know where that stuff has been” seemed to be her main reason. I admit that whatever I buy does go through a thorough cleaning once I get it home but to me that’s just common sense. I personally think she considers herself ‘above’ that sort of thing but I could be wrong.

I consider thrift shopping to be a big part of recycling and the old “one man’s trash is another man’s treasure” rings true. We have a few of these stores in my town, mostly local charities raising money to help keep community services operating. These are my ‘go to’ stores. I prefer knowing that most of my money is also being recycled into the community and not just a small percentage of it as is the case with most of the chain-type stores.

Anyway…off my soapbox. I’m down to one scene (the tough one I’ve been putting off for weeks) then the work begins. I’ve already started minor editing but each read-over finds an annoying number of niggly things that need work.

Whoever said this was easy?


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s