Strike While The Griddle Is Hot

Clump #102:  Clean out avalanching pan cabinet.

My youngest niece and I have a Black Friday tradition we almost wimped out on this morning.  Deep, well-earned sleep after a long day almost did us in. But at around 8:00 am, we stumbled into Target, got hot chocolate, and commenced the annual ritual.  Here’s my niece modeling a hat in the dollar section:

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One year we experienced the full-on, get-up-in-the-dark insanity to buy my father a widescreen TV.  I was questioning my own sanity for having brought a young girl with me.  Scary!  Since then we’ve stuck to Target at a more civilized hour.  It wasn’t crowded today, and we had fun picking up CDs and DVDs for five dollars.   My niece found a Christmas ornament in her favorite color for less than three dollars.

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Back at home we dug out the griddle for pancakes.  When I say dug out, I mean it.  The photo below was taken after we put the griddle back. Time for a clump!

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Ancient lunch bags, too grody to give away, bound for the trash:

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Even older, a popsicle mold …

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We found all four sticks!

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And the glorious after:

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Last year my niece gave me an incredible Christmas gift: a poem she had written for me.

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Two excerpts: “When I was nine/ Or was it ten?/ I used to slide down/those slippery stairs/you never got mad,/ Just a little concerned.” and, “Black Friday shopping/ I always adore/ And you seem determined / Even if it’s 6 am at the door.”

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Just goes to show that the best presents can’t be found in any store.

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