Storytime.

Story time

I turned the key in the lock and slipped into the cozy apartment that had been my home for two years. It had been quite a day at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. The museum was offering a course in watercolors and pastels. I had always been excited about trying new things. So, what if javelin throwing hadn’t worked out, what could be so bad about painting?!? Being pleased with my decision to sign up I did the only logical thing; I enrolled in my first ever-painting course. The enroller handed me a list of supplies and a pamphlet describing the course, “Watercolors and Pastels.” The list included paints, turpentine, a clear glass jar with lid, and a few brushes among other things. It was now 8 pm, but I wasn’t the least bit hungry. I had eaten in the city at Brawnson’s Diner at the corner of 17th and Oak Street. From the outside it would appear like a small old matinee house, but on the inside, it’s a comfortable restaurant. The look is part of the charm of the old place. Tossing my coat on the floor of my apartment, I flopped myself down in the nearest chair to absorb the contents of the pamphlet. The wording was so basic that I never even needed to pull out my college edition-Webster’s dictionary, which was gathering dust on its shelf.

I finished college last year. I am working as an analyst for the “New York Times.” What’s an analyst? Well basically what I do is budget costs and keep operations going. Besides it exposes me briefly to the atmosphere in which one of my first hobbies is played out. This is my hobby of writing stories and news articles. When I’m not working, I enjoy old hobbies as well as the new and exciting ones. I’ve tried things such as bungee jumping; fox trotting, backpacking and skydiving. Of course, there’s more but if I list everything I’d be here forever.

Have you ever gotten a call from a telemarketer? It’s torture. The minute you’ve said Hi, you’re toast. She just won’t leave you alone and she acts like a kid going through her “why?” stage.

“Oh, why don’t you want to know about these revolutionary new products? It will add spice to your life. This beautification system is guaranteed to...”

“That’s nice, but I really don’t care to know about it.”

“But it can take years off your face!”

“I like my face the way it is, thank you!”

“But think of how much better you might feel if you use these products, how much praise you could get from others,” her voice pleaded.

“In five seconds, I’m going to hang up the phone.”

Then, of course, I would hang up the phone. If you get a persistent marketer, the person calls back five or six times and says, “We keep on getting disconnected.” Every time I hear that I cringe and get the urge to shout, “No, I hung up on you, dumb ass.” Of course I don’t say that but instead I say, “Good bye” and hang up again. There’s no need to be impolite. The marketer can’t see what you’re thinking.

I had a rich aunt on my mom’s side of the family when I was young. When she died, she left me half of her estate in her will. I received half a million dollars, her emerald ring with most of her semi-precious jewels, and 500 share of Calmlife Pharmaceuticals stock. I sold 475 shares the next day and that covered about two years of college. Emily, her daughter, didn’t make off too badly either, but ever since we were kids, she’s had her eye on the emerald ring. When we were little, we would play dress up with a few of her mother’s old dresses and costume jewelry. Sometimes Emily would sneak off with Aunt Sharon’s emerald ring. You should have heard her roar when she heard it would be mine for the rest of my life. She looked like a lion about to pounce. Convinced by my lawyer, I held my tongue.

In art class, two of our many subjects were a pink candle in a slightly intricate holder, and a small tub of sour cream with toothpick flag sticking out of it like the crown on the Statue of Liberty. Of course, there had to be easier subjects to begin with. Our first subject was a toothbrush and toothpaste. I did better at watercolor painting than pastels, but it was definitely a challenging course.

One time I was so absent minded that I locked my keys in my aquamarine Ford Taurus LX. I didn’t even realize what I did until after lunch. It was then that I remembered something one of my college buddies told me. There was a way to get to my keys. The police could jimmy the lock for me. So, that’s how I got to my keys that day. You’d be amazed how little attention a police car brings to New Yorkers.

Almost every Christmas, I take a trip back to my home city of Bakersfield, California, to visit the folks. One year, my boyfriend, at the time, had suggested we rent a van and drive there not realizing how far we had to go. I said, “You’re nuts! My parents live in California.” He couldn’t image anyone living so far away from his or her parents. His family was always closer than mine.

One Christmas in Bakersfield, I ran into Lisa Benston at the jewelry area of the department store. She recognized me first.

“Margie Kimbol? Lisa Benston. Do you remember me?”

I looked at her amazed. “I recognize you but I’m not sure from where,” I said studying her face for a clue.

“We were in drama class together back in high school.”

“Oh, that’s right, you played Juliet in the play.”

She smiled.

We talked on about formalities, plays, and life. She teaches English in our old high school and she says that the kids just keep getting worse.

Now that the art class is over, I’m planning a vacation to Canada, where I’m going to get a chance to try my hand at Lacrosse. Now all I have to do is find out what it is! Where is that dictionary?