Eight Dollar Pants

What can I tell you?  It's Sunday night as I type this and my wrist is feeling slightly better.  In fact it's already seizing up and I'm only on sentence number two.  So much for that idea.  Pardon me while I pull myself together for a quick weekend rundown:  slept for hours with windows open and a light breeze blowing, ate pint after pint of raspberries, threw a few more things in the closet purge pile, watched waaaaaaay too much Dateline and am contemplating joining the FBI, and on Friday night seated someone at a table at the Chef's restaurant when everyone else was busy with other customers (where's my tip? hehe). 

Things are going well for him--so far so good as the saying goes.  It's incredibly exciting to watch it all play out from the sidelines.  The crazy start-up hours have left me with a lot of time on my hands and even though there are plenty of things I could be doing *ahem cleaning* somehow I'm just taking a moment to do nothing much.  It feels nice to pause and regroup for the first time in over a year.  Last Sunday I woke up with hours of free time and instead of racing off on an errand rolled down to the flea market to take a gander.  More like a jackpot.  There were so many treasures to be found that day.  What was supposed to be a simple jaunt turned into a 3 hour marathon.  I left with bag filled with 70's vintage gems--amongst them these $8 pants.  Yes I said EIGHT DOLLAR PANTS.  My own little dream come true.

~Outfit details:  Hat-Hat Attack, Vest-H&M, Chambray Blouse-Gap, Belt-Anthropologie,

Pants-Vintage, Sunnies-Target, Bracelet-Brooklyn Thread~

Who ever let these go?  WHO?? I spotted them after pilfering through racks and racks of

crazy ol' 70's dresses and skirts.  Unable to believe my eyes I screamed out, 'HOW MUCH?!?'

while a young Hispanic guy laughed hysterically and said the word 'eight'.  

Unable to contain myself I screamed incredulously, 'EIGHT? EIGHT DOLLARS?,' 

as he nodded wildly.  He had a live one.

'SOLD!!!,' is the final thing I remember hollering while rooting for my wallet.

Somewhere in flea market land the word loco was used a lot that day.

They're the perfect pants for spotting shed snail shells in the dirt.  

Eye of the Tiger.  

For some reason I feel like saying, 'Ahoy Matey' every time I look at this picture.  

Land ahead?

Off to continue resting my wrist and staring at the eight dollar pants.  Let's see how long this can go on for.