I’ve been meaning to tell you about this, but so much has happened that I put it aside. Considering the way my mind operates, I thought I had better tell you soon or I’d forget it! Jim and I went to Opp Fest, our town’s cool festival with antique cars, homemade cakes, country & gospel music, crafts, ice cream, T-shirts and colorful gourds.
But first we had to get out of our driveway! Sounds simple enough, yet I always settle into the car and realize I forgot something. Door opens. Get the camera. Door slams. Door opens again. Get a water bottle. Door slams. Yes, it could happen even again. I’m sure you are cool, collected, organized and not like this. Right?
So we were backing up, and suddenly Jim unfastened his seatbelt and started digging into his pants pocket. I didn’t hear the phone ring, but he was yanking it out in total frustration. He said, “My camera phone is clicking away, taking pictures.” I laughed and said, “At least it’s only pictures of the inside of your pocket. Some of my Florida girlfriends with ample bosoms keep their phones tucked inside their Victoria Secret bras. No camera malfunctions that I know about.” Jim shoved his phone toward my Guess sweatshirt, and I waved him off with both arms and flying words. Red-faced and out of breath I said, “You can keep your lunatic phone on your side of the car. I am not your Verizon Vixen!” He said it was my idea in the first place, suggesting a new parking spot for his phone. I looked around to see if the neighbors saw our silly struggling in the car when Jim backed our Jeep clown-mobile on to the street. I told Jim I wondered what on earth they would think. He said, “Who? Billy Ray? He would cheer me on with both arms waving in the air.” I set him straight saying, “Noo! I meant the preacher’s sweet wife next door. She probably thinks we are crazy enough already.”
We parked downtown and walked to Main Street, me with my camera slung from my neck and Jim with his camera clicking in his pants taking pictures of George Washington’s face on the quarter rolling around in the lint.
After we rambled past all of the tables Jim said, “You could set up a table next year and sell your book.” I told him, “We could probably make more money if you set up a table and sold boiled peanuts!” Who knows? I might be there next year. Look for me and check on Jim’s pants pocket. Come back to Opp Fest next year. It’s great fun!
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Visit the France Storytelling and pictures page for beautiful pictures of France, and take a look at many of the other posts. I would love to hear from you and know your favorite.
Read about Opp, Alabama, my home town and France in “A French Opportunity” available at the AMAZON website including the KINDLE version plus the Barnes and Noble website.
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