The Thrill of the Find

When I was younger, I loved to shop.

Not browse. Not wander.

Power Shop.

And never - not in my wildest - would I have thought about buying something used.

Someone else’s stuff? No way.

But somewhere along the way… that changed.

Now? - Thrifting is in my blood.

It’s the thrill of the hunt.The idea that there’s something sitting on a shelf somewhere that I didn’t even know I needed… until I find it.

A little lost treasure I suddenly can’t live without.

And it’s not really about shopping anymore.

It’s about wondering.

Where has this been?

Who picked this out the first time?

Who kept it… and for how long?

You can hold something in your hands and know it mattered to someone before it ever made its way to you. A dish. A book. A piece of clothing.

None of it's new.

And somehow, that’s the point.

I think that’s why I’m drawn to it now.

Not because it’s cheaper.

Not because it’s trendy.

But because it feels connected.

Like you’re stepping into a story that already started.

Every once in a while, I’ll find something that makes me pause a little longer.

Something that clearly had a life before it landed on that shelf.

And I wonder about it.

Who used it.

Where it sat.

What it was part of.

It’s a strange way to shop, I guess.

But it doesn’t feel like shopping. It feels more like… noticing.

And if I’m being honest, I’m always looking for that one particular thing that I can't live without. Because isn't there always one treasure we need?

Sometimes it's home decor but I always look at books - not just any book ...

but specific books:

Community Cookbooks.

Church Cookbooks.

But that’s another story for another time.

It's been a busy day - I think I'll decompress and go thrift!

Wish it - Dream it - Do it!

There’s a plaque hanging in my tea room that says:

Wish it. Dream it. Do it.

It’s not there for decoration.

It never was.

That was the plan.

Long before there was a tea room, I was working as a steelworker. Long days. Hard work. The kind of job where you don’t really imagine yourself trading it in for something like… scones and teacups.

But somewhere along the way, I did.

In 2000, with no culinary background and more determination than experience, I opened a small tea room in Granite City. It wasn’t big - but it had something.

And over time, it became something more.

By 2003, I made the full leap.

Steel-toed boots for a whisk.

And that’s really where the story begins.

Somewhere in the middle of all of that, I wrote and self-published a cookbook called Beyond the Garden Gate.

The company I worked with is no longer around.

The files are gone.

And I’m down to one last copy sitting on my shelf.

So instead of letting it sit there…

I’m going to start sharing pieces of it here.

Not all at once.

Not as a project.

Just as they come.

The recipes, the stories, and the moments that helped shape everything that came after.

Because the truth is…

this was never just a cookbook.

It was a path.

Why Does Everything Need a Password Now?

There was a time when you could just… do things.

Turn something on.

Log into something.

Buy something.

No codes. No verification. No “create a password that includes a symbol, a number,

a capital letter, and something you’ll never remember again.”

Now?

Everything needs a password.

And not just a password…

A different one.

For everything.

And they all have rules

It can’t be something you’ve used before.It can’t be too simple.It can’t be too obvious.

And somehow…

it still ends up being something you can’t remember five minutes later.

So you reset it

Again.

And now you need:

• your email

• a code sent to your phone

• another code sent to your email

• and possibly the answer to a security question you made up in 2007

At some point, it shifts

You’re not logging in anymore.

You’re trying to break into your own account.

I even have a system… sort of

My friends have actually bought me those little books that say “WTF is my password?”

And I still can’t keep them straight.

We used to remember everything

Phone numbers.Addresses.Directions.

Now?

I can barely remember a password I created yesterday.

And yes… I know why

Security.

Protection.

It makes sense.

But still…

It feels like a lot.

Not because it’s difficult.

Just because it’s constant.

Everywhere you turn, there’s one more step. One more login.

One more thing to remember.

Because at this point…

the only thing I’m consistent at is forgetting my passwords!