Yesterday, my neighbor came over to give me instructions for dog and cat sitting while they (the people) run off to the beach for three days (gee, what's wrong with this picture?). This was the first time she has actually been in my house since we always chat over the back fence. Yes, it seems that is a reality in small towns. "So, you're a bag lady," was the first thing she said as she sat down.
My hearing is not what it should be so I had to stop and think for a few seconds trying to figure out what she really said that only sounded like "so, you're a bag lady." Then it hit me -- my makeshift room divider that sets off my studio from the rest of the house. It's frame is a garden trellis and tied to all the crossbars are bags from all my favorite stores and shops in NYC.
My hearing is not what it should be so I had to stop and think for a few seconds trying to figure out what she really said that only sounded like "so, you're a bag lady." Then it hit me -- my makeshift room divider that sets off my studio from the rest of the house. It's frame is a garden trellis and tied to all the crossbars are bags from all my favorite stores and shops in NYC.
I love it - simply because it reminds me of good times, good friends and terrific treasures. It's funny how I walk past the bags every day and when someone took notice of them I was forced to really look at them again and, of course, take a stroll down memory lane. Oh if those bags could talk -- the stories they could tell.
No comments:
Post a Comment