Day 37:

We were only supposed to thrift until noon.

Just a quick little morning trip — some vintage browsing, maybe a few good finds — and then I’d get back to work.

But when you’re with someone who sees the world the way you do… time bends.

Raelene and I ended up shopping until almost 3:00. Two sets of eyes. Double the opinions. Full permission to try things on that felt too bold, too weird, or too main character. Because that’s what this next series is about — stepping into the version of me who dresses like she means it. Who doesn’t wait for a plot twist to show up… she wears it.

The thrift marathon was a blur of aisles and racks. Leather and denim stacked in corners. The faint smell of old perfume clinging to silk blouses. We grabbed pieces and swapped carts like we were in some unscripted buddy comedy. At one point, we both lunged for the same jacket and then burst out laughing — two magpies spotting the same shine.

And oh, did I find some plot twists.

A pair of vintage cowgirl boots that practically whispered, “Put me on, let’s dance.”
A rare leather Fossil bag I almost left behind — until Raelene looked at me like, “Are you serious? That’s a main character bag.”
A wardrobe full of future characters I haven’t even written yet. Trying them on in the thrift store mirror felt like slipping into a sneak peek of the sequel while still finishing the first season.

And after the haul? Full mum mode.

One moment I was twirling in a thrifted skirt. The next, I was back in the kitchen, chopping veggies and yelling “Shoes! Bag! Let’s go!” to get everyone out the door. Dinner made early. Volleyball game. Carpool. Coordination. It’s a strange kind of muscle — pivoting between characters without losing yourself. But it’s becoming one of my quiet superpowers.

Then, with the last of my physical flarmahoogans, I threw on those new boots and we made our way to Billy Bob’s — the largest honky tonk in America — where the night swallowed us whole.

Walking in was like stepping onto a movie set: neon lights buzzing, the hum of voices rising above the music, boots scuffing across wood floors. The air smelled like beer and barbecue. Couples spun across the dance floor like they’d been rehearsing for weeks. And there I was — breaking in my vintage boots under the spotlight, laughing as Raelene pulled me into a western swing. For a moment, I felt like the main character in a honky tonk film, equal parts awkward and electric.

It was a full day. A real one.

On friendship. On dancing. On finding boots that make you feel like the version of yourself you’re trying to become.

Yes, my body is wiped. My list didn’t get checked. But my soul banked enough to carry me through tomorrow.

This challenge has taught me rhythm, yes — but also rebellion. And sometimes, that rebellion looks like ditching the plan for the thrill of living the life you said you wanted.

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