A dollar store odyssey

Story and photos by Deb Withey

 My co-workers used to wander into my office and say, “Hey, that’s cool, where’d you get that?” After four years, they’ve known me long enough to rephrase the question to: “Cool! Is that another one of your dollar store finds?” “Why, yes. Glad you like it!” It’s true, I adore dollar stores. (I also love $1,000 Philippe Starck-designed, Missoni fabric-covered chairs, but that’s a conversation for another day.)

I go to dollar stores everywhere I travel, and that isn’t hard to do. Every country seems to have its own version. My favorite ones are in Spain and Britain. In Spain, the stores are called Todo a Cien, which, loosely translated, means “Everything’s a euro!”

When I lived in Spain, the dollar and the euro were of equal value. Not anymore. Actually, European stores have just about the same stuff American dollar stores do, except the shelves seem to be a bit messier, as if everything came off one boat and got dumped there right on the spot. But I like that. The disorder leads to the thrill of the hunt.

The British have been hunting in fantastic flea markets since medieval times, but their dollar stores have a fair share of finds, too. And the British have the cutest names for things; our particular Welsh dollar shop was called “Pound Saver.” It’s where we found “William and the Night Train,” a stunningly illustrated storybook about a small boy who resists toddling off to dream world like all the other passengers. “But everyone sleeps on the night train!” his mother exclaims. My son, Tâm David, is now 7½, and reading that book still makes us smile.

Back to the USA. So, I had this idea. What if Tâm and I chose one particular Saturday and made it “our dollar store day”? The goal would be to shop as long as we liked instead of the usual run-through, then enjoy what we bought all in one day. “Wouldn’t that be fun?”

“Cooool, Mom,” Tâm said.

And in these days of pinched pocket­books, it might actually be a smart idea. 

The odyssey

11:30 a.m.  We head out the door to start our day much later than anticipated. Whew. It’s blazing hot. We put the top down, and I make a snap decision to begin at the Dollar Tree in Norfolk’s Ocean View.

11:45 a.m.  We’re inside! Tâm is excited, and the store is crammed. Late-summer and early-fall plastic items appear to collide midaisle. This is going to be good!

1:15 p.m.  I glance at my watch. Oh, my gosh. Have we spent an hour and a half in here? How time flies. So according to plan we’ve systematically selected things to play, clean, organize and decorate with. We resist the multicolored Mylar balloons because they’ll surely go flat before we find the next birthday invitation in the mailbox.

1:20 p.m.  Hmmm, this is a lot of stuff. We need to consolidate. We start to edit and put some school supplies back. There’s still a month of summertime left.

1:25 p.m.  Still deciding. I tell Tâm we’ve gone a bit wild, but it’s been fun. Now we need to put a $50 limit on what we buy, and we still have two more stores to visit. We cut a little deeper.

1:30 p.m.  We make it to the checkout. The checker is gracious and doesn’t flinch at the 38 items stuffed inside the three plastic carry-carts. One Sunday morning at the dollar store I stood in line behind a man and his family who had 110 items, not counting multipacks. I know he had that many because the register doesn’t lie. Needless to say, it took a while to get him packed up and out the door.

1:45 p.m.  The bags are in the back of the car. We have had neither breakfast nor lunch. I veer off plan and suggest we rest up over a spaghetti and giant meatball lunch at the Italian place a few doors down.

2:30 p.m.  Back on track. We’re off to Family Dollar, where most things actually cost more than a dollar, but the store still qualifies. Remembering we have $12 left, we find mini Tampico bottles, Tam’s favorite 100 percent citrus juice drink. What a deal – we grab two packs and go.

3:15 p.m.  Yes! We arrive at “our” Dollar Tree at Wards Corner. “It’s time to get our favorite freezy foods!” Tâm says. We’re down to our last $8, and we spend it on frozen pizzas, sizzlin’ link sausages, genuine Italian ice, one roast turkey dinner and les pieces de resistance, three small, ready-to-decorate, wooden birdhouses. Our craft!

4 p.m.  I haul the bags from the car and spread the booty out on the lawn to be photographed and to document our day. Tâm begins to fill his new water gun from the outside tap but accidentally turns on the sprinkler instead. I jump! Marilyn Monroe had a subway breeze blowing up her skirt, but I have a shower! Drat, I need to change, and we’re running behind for a play date with friends in Portsmouth.

4:15 p.m.  I give our friends a buzz to say we’ll be late. I hope their three girls will enjoy the dollar store finds we’ve chosen for them: faux fur collars with colorful stick-on gemstones. While we’re on the phone, I notice a shaft of light passing through the four-pack of plastic rulers – red, orchid, green and blue. I had rulers just like those when I was a little girl. I’m happy Tâm chose them.

4:30 p.m.  All changed and ready. We pack the car with dollar store goodies: the dress-up stuff; one inflatable pool shark; a box of fat, polka-dotted sidewalk chalk; fruit popsicles; a tongue-popping mini-monster truck; and a four-pack of retro-designed squirt guns. Let’s roll!

5:15 p.m.  We make it to Port Norfolk. The girls greet us straight from the wading pool, and they’re dripping wet. “Hi!” they squeal. Tâm is shy for half a second, then starts to strip down. “Wait!” I say. “I thought we’d do the chalk drawings first!” Hmmm. Maybe not. They head to the pool and consume the popsicles en masse before hitting the water. Meanwhile, their dad inflates the shark.

5:20 p.m.  The shark is in the water, and it’s instantly attacked by three girls and a boy. I think it survives 15 minutes before it blows. Not a huge hole, but just big enough to make the tail sag. I don’t blame the dollar store; a disaster can strike any inflatable. Just look at what happens to those big balloons in the Thanksgiving Day parade.

6 p.m.  The children tire of squirting each other in the eyes and vacate the pool. They towel off and are ready to draw. We go around front to the sidewalk. These are artists’ children, and they’re comfortable with art supplies. The chalk is really quite smooth, and the colors are vibrant. When they finish, the sidewalk is covered with chalk hearts and cats, and their home appears more loved than it did a few minutes ago. Children can do that to a house.

7 p.m.  Dinner is coming off the grill. The girls appear at the table sporting their dress-up collars. Tâm whispers to me, “They look really pretty.” I repeat what he just said out loud. “MOM!” Tâm protests. Oh, right, that comment was for my ears only.

7:15 p.m.  We move to the front porch for a photo session. The girls chirp, “Are our pictures going to be in the newspaper?” “Yes, if they turn out OK they might,” I say. I try to catch them unaware, but they’re too interested in posing. Tâm wears his big-brimmed, black dollar store cowboy hat. It’s too large for him and won’t stay on. The faux leopard collar really suits Julia, the middle child; she has it on just so.

After 8 p.m.  Tâm shows off his favorite dollar store find, the tongue-popping monster truck. Then I mention my favorite find: pear-scented, pearlescent orange liquid soap in a pear-shaped bottle embellished with a plastic leaf. I’d already placed it in the downstairs bath before we left. It’s amazing how a thing that cost one dollar pleases me just as much as something more expensive. Perhaps it’s because my mother taught me to be enthusiastic about everything in life.

8:45 p.m.  It’s a nice night, not too sticky, so we opt for a dress-up parade around their neighborhood. With only a few blocks behind us, Tâm skins his knee in a race with the two older girls. He worries about germs getting in it (he overheard a MRSA story recently) and how much it’s going to hurt to clean it. I make him walk a bit longer because it’s really not a bad scrape, but he’s lost interest, and I begin to feel unkind. I’m about to suggest going back when the youngest girl announces she has to go to the bathroom.

Almost 9 p.m.  On the walk home, the middle daughter begins to assemble a bouquet of things she’s found along the way: Queen Anne’s Lace, trumpet flowers, pine cones – quite a collection. You can’t buy these treasures at the dollar store.

9:30 p.m.  I admire the lovely pine cone festooned with flowers that the middle daughter has just made from her walk finds. She smiles and tells me, “It’s yours now.” “Oh, I couldn’t,” I say. “Please, take it,” she says. I’m touched by this sweet and simple act from such a young child. Kindness – you can’t buy that at the dollar store, either.

9:45 p.m.  Time to go. I get lost a bit on my way to the Midtown Tunnel. Tâm is nodding off in the backseat, and I notice he’s still clutching the tongue-popping monster truck. He has more expensive toys, but this evening it’s the truck that holds the place of honor.

10:15 p.m.  We’re home. We really should paint the birdhouses for our story, but we think better of it. Tâm nips in the kitchen on his way upstairs. He yells from the kitchen, “Mom, Mom! The dollar store rice crackers are just as good as what we usually buy at the Asian grocery, and this bag is actually resealable! And these thermos lunch bags are awesome! I can’t wait to take them to camp.” Life’s little pleasures.

10:30 p.m.  It’s much too late, but we stick to our plan, which includes reading a book purchased from the dollar store before bed. Tâm was deciding on some children’s books when he spotted the Bibles on the shelf, and that was it. Excited, we open to a page and … Oh, goodness, the type is so tiny, I cannot, cannot, see a thing! Not one word. Am I wearing my glasses? “I’m so sorry, honey.” But Tâm doesn’t mind; he’s fast asleep.

10:45 p.m.  Time to pop in the dollar store DVD. The cover art is fuzzy, like the copy of a copy of the original, but the description looks quite promising. “The Last Belle” is described as the story of F. Scott Fitzgerald and his wife, Zelda, starring … drum roll … my childhood heartthrob, Richard Chamberlain, along with Blythe Danner and Susan Sarandon. If you’re wondering how a movie with such an all-star cast found its way to the bargain rack, let’s just say it was slow-moving. And Sarandon? I admit I fell asleep halfway through, but she must have either been 12 or so heavily made-up that I didn’t recognize her.

9 a.m. the next day.  It hasn’t been 24 hours yet, so we continue on with our dollar agenda. Tâm remembers the promise of sizzle ’n’ serve sausages, maple-cream cookies (an actual product of Canada) and Tampico. And I proceed to the organization part of the plan, using the wire racks and baskets we purchased, and clean out the spice cabinet. Anything dated pre-2007 gets thrown out. Done! I feel a sense of accomplishment with the knowledge that there are no more mystery bottles lurking in the back. The rest of the day is full of errands, laundry and friends.

5:30 p.m.  The Sunday night jitters come over me because the weekend is coming to a close. I’ve had this unsettled feeling since I was a child, even on vacation. Tâm yells, “Mommy, you keep saying you have to do this, and you have to do that. Take a break!” But we have one more thing on our dollar store day agenda. We’ve saved the best part for last, but Tâm doesn’t want to paint the birdhouses now.

6 ish.  I get all the paints out and lay the craft cloth on the table. Then I put on the dollar music CD he chose, “Zen Garden.” Like magic, the soft sounds of light rain and bamboo flutes lure him back to the kitchen. He picks up a brush, and in seconds he’s totally immersed. “Mommy, can you please bring me the glass Greek eye we bought in Greece?” He paints his version of the famous eye in three shades of blue on the back of the house in big, confident strokes. Then he gives the roof a brush of orange. It’s gorgeous, and he’s very proud. I can tell by the half smile he gives me. I like what he’s created much more than my own, and that feels nice.

We’ve had a very special time this weekend. You’ve probably figured out by now that the reason I thought up this dollar plan in the first place was that it was something we could share together. And you know what? You can buy that at the dollar store.

P.S. The first draft of this story was handwritten with a fabulous black ink roller ball pen. Purchased from you know where …