blackwells

the wind was rather petulant that day and the weathered red door behind me needed an extra shove with the heel of my moccasin to close tightly.  it was mere seconds after i heard the hinge make a significant "click" that the seventy something year old lady behind the glass counter called me "honey pie" under her breath.  she said it in a nonchalant yet hospitable way, welcoming me to her store as if i was an old friend she was expecting.  it was in that moment that my heart had found a new love here in kansas city.  they call it, blackwells.  

i mean, let's just forget about (which by the way is by no means possible) all the beautifully tattered vintage kitchenware hanging from the ceiling whereupon it also managed to be stacked upon stacks of colored crystal.  the owner called me honey pie!  for that alone deserves recognition.  but you cannot ignore nor show any sort of indifference to the sheer magnitude of lovely kitcheny things adorning the walls of this thrift store on sixty third street boarding what my slightly naive and positively vulnerable self refers to as "thee hood".  

but i digress. 

this store is magical.  after dropping my babies off at my mother in law's i found myself staring at more pyrex and milky vases than i thought could exist in one storefront location.  a treasure trove of all things good, blackwells was a delight.  a real gem.  a place i know if i find myself sans little ones for an hour or two will be my secret retreat if i feel the need for a new white enamel tray, or the like.