Karen Vargas

Once Upon a Spatula

All I needed was a spatula. Really. But you know what happens when you go into a thrift store. It's so easy to get sidetracked browsing all those shelves. You can end up pushing through hundreds of hangers on rods looking for something to wear, then scanning even more shelves littered with the cemeteries of clear glass bud vases left over from every last flower shop in town. Before you know it, you've been in the store for over an hour, but hopefully, you'll leave with at least one decent find. My sister Emily told me I could find a spatula at the thrift store on Mesa Vista Avenue. She also told me not to start up any conversations with the old man that owned the place, or I'd never escape. Little did she know.