November 5, 2007

Art Shows and I'm a Child Again

One of my BFFs is my maternal cousin Jodie.  She and I go waaayyyyyy back.  An early memory is hearing her really-cute-laugh when I'd say, “Clickety-clack, clickety-clack, all the way down the railroad track.”  One day it didn't work, “That’s not funny anymore,” she told me.  So I stopped.  Hmm.  I tell her this tale now, and she thinks this is funny.  Haha, me too.

I used to spend parts of summer in Sacramento with my grandparents and Jodie’s family whose duplex was separated by a laundry room.  Jodie and I used to play store.  We would set up our respective inventories outside in the heat:  she on her family’s doorstep and me on our grandparents’s doorstep.  My store had a jasmine vine that Grandpa had planted.  It climbed a post and the only flowers we could smell were the ones above our heads.  Jodie used to pluck them and slurp the nectar from inside the white and yellow blossoms.  Don’t ask me what they tasted like; there were never any left when I wanted to try.  Back at the store, we didn’t have much money, only small change, although sometimes Jodie had quarters.  We would try to sell things to each other.  I don’t remember what.  Maybe little note pads, tiny boxes, comic books, seashells... things like that.  I knew Jodie was coming to my store when I heard wagon wheels rolling down the street.  Everything was priced at a few pennies, except for real treasures, and I think we may have had a deal where we returned the item after being called inside for dinner.  When participating in art shows, I’m reminded of playing store like when Jodie and I were little.


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