Boutiqueville ahoy!

Yup, I'm going.

It's cooled down considerably since last month (and it's rained some, and it may be raining tomorrow - if it's crazy-ass storms I won't go, but if it's just raining, I will. Because rain will keep the annoying people away).

I went to the bank and cashed a check. (Um. A check from my parents. My dad asked me what it cost me to take the train up to visit them and even though I insisted that I could easily afford it, that I was doing it as part of my meeting-trip, and he didn't HAVE to, he insisted on writing me a check for the cost of my tickets. Which was very nice but as I said he doesn't HAVE to do that. So anyway - I deposited 2/3 of the check but kept the remaining portion out as "fun money." Because I really wasn't counting on him writing me the check - so, see, it's like "found" money, right?)

Anyway. I've got cash in hand, I haven't used the credit card I use for such things much in the past month (I have a "life necessities" credit card for gas and groceries and medication and I have a "fun" credit card for ordering stuff online and "fun" shopping - that way I can keep track of the bills better, and I can know to scale back on the "fun" shopping if the "life necessities" have been higher in the past months.)

So I'm going.

And I'm glad I'm going.

Boutiqueville - I'm using a pseudonym like I do for everything on here to protect my privacy, but probably most of you reading this know of a "Boutiqueville." It's a smallish city with an historic downtown where there is a large mass of small shops. It's a place where it's easy to park and then walk the blocks around the area where the shops are - which is nice for me, I don't like the park - n - drive - n - shop - n - drive set up that some places have. I like to just leave my car and spend the day walking around.

It has several small restaurants - tea room type places - where a person can get a decent lunch. And it has antique shops. And two quilt shops. And a number of "gift" type shops, the kind of places where you can buy fancy soap or a drinking glass with the Eiffel Tower etched on to it.

It's a "ladies" sort of place. You see some men there, and I guess there are shops that cater to more typically manly interests (there's a old-building salvage place, and a rare book store), but most of the people there are women, most of the stuff for sale is girly type stuff - soap and candles and hats and jewelry and craft supplies and things that are pink or silver or pale turquoise. Even the restaurants are fairly "girly."

It's the kind of place I love. Good as a trip to the spa for me. It is, for me, not unlike Holly Golightly's description of Tiffany's - it feels as if nothing bad could happen to you there.

The kind of place, as one of my friends from grad school used to say, that sells stuff you don't need.

Except, I think I kind of DO. It's not a "need" in the way that water or nutritious food or shelter is a need, but it does an awful lot to help my outlook on life and my general well-being to, first, be able to get out a couple times a year, spend a day totally on MYSELF and spend a day looking at pretty shiny things. And buy some of those pretty shiny things. And second, it is very good for my psyche to have nice soap to wash my face with at the end of the day - or a cunning mug to drink my tea out of - or a few more nice old books to read.

(As Calvin might say, it's both the getting and the having.)

A big part of the restfulness of going to Boutiqueville for me is that it IS a day out - a day away. If I stay in town, people can find me. They can call me at home (yes, I know, I can unhook the phone, but I never do). They can come to my house. They can catch me in my office if I choose to go in.

But when I go to Boutiqueville - I turn off my cell phone. I leave the little sphere where people know me and can find me and can ask me to do stuff or tell me their life stories (I had a student in just today with the need to 'share' all the medical procedures he's been through this summer).

And while I TRY to be compassionate, while I TRY to look at people as children of God and see them as individuals with hopes and dreams and fears and loves...I have to admit sometimes when I spend too much time around people I get kind of worn down, the life stories start to sound kind of sad and tawdry and dingy and I almost feel like Claire in that scene from "Scrooged" (the part with the imagined future time for Bill Murray's character) where I decide I need to just "scrape 'em off."

And I don't like feeling that way.

So I do take a day and PRETEND I'm "scrapin' 'em off" by going out and sort of floating around the stores, smelling scented candles, graciously accepting the free samples that are offered, drinking an iced chai or lemonade in the early afternoon when I'm starting to tire - and spending time and money on myself.

And I know some people would be horrified by that - heck, as an ecologist I am supposed to loathe the idea of using even more of the Earth's resources to satisfy my petty wants - but you know? I feel a whole lot better after taking a day and going and buying some new quilt fabric or some lavender drawer sachets or a vintage toothpick holder. And sometimes I think a person's well-being, a person's sense of comfort and happiness and rightness-with-the-world, is worth a little use of resources, as I am unfortunately not the type who can be brought back into balance by going out and planting trees or chanting things in front of burning incense.

I would make a rather poor ascetic.

(And besides- I am really not much of a shopper, normally. Clothes are something I buy when the clothes I have now wear out. Many of the things I spend money on are "vintage" or antique, meaning, I suppose, I could argue I'm providing a market that keeps old things out of the landfill. Whatever. I prefer not to think about it.)

So tomorrow morning (provided, as I said, it's not crazy-ass storms), I'm off to Boutiqueville for the day. I don't know what I will find there - that's part of the fun (I HATE the kind of shopping where you go, "I must replace my worn out khakis" and then you slog through fifteen stores trying to find a pair that is in your size, in your price range, doesn't look ugly, and isn't crappily made). I have nothing I HAVE to buy, no pulls on my time.

It's rare, which is partly why it's so wonderful.